fcv 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


?«?  TO  EXC 
TfflS  BOO 

STRATFr 


642-644  So.  M; 


THE    LAW-BRINGERS 
G.     B  .     LANCASTER 


OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


THE 
LAW-BRINGERS 


BY 

G.  B.  LANCASTER      P  5-eu 


AUTHOR  OF  "SONS  O'MEN."  "THE  SPUR," 
"THE  ALTAR  STAIR."  ETC. 


L_ 


HODDER  &   STOUGHTON 
NEW  YORK 

GEORGE  H.   DORAN  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1913. 
BY  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


PR 


TO  MY  GOOD  CANADIAN  FRIENDS, 

DR.  HELEN  MACMURCHY  AND 

MISS  MARJORY  MACMURCHY, 

I  DEDICATE  THIS,  WITH  MEMORIES  AND  HOPES 

G.  B.  L. 


2131145 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  "Two  WHO  WERE  FRIENDS"     ....  11 

II.  "  WE  ALL  EXERT  OUR  PULL  "     .  29 

III.  "  I  KNOW  WHAT  I'M  AT  " 52 

IV.  "  GRANGE'S  ANDREE  " 70 

V.  "  WE  GENERALLY  DON'T  " 94 

VI.  "  THE  YOUNG  GOD  FREY  " 114 

VII.  "THE  RETURN  OF  OGILVIE  "        .      .      .      .  139 

VIII.  "ON  THE  ATHABASKA  " 169 

IX.  "  You  UNDERSTAND  "         ......  198 

X.  "  THE  FORCE  ISN'T  A  NURSERY  "...  228 

XI.  "  IL  M'AIME,  JE  Vous  Dis  "       ....  254 

XII.  "THE  THIEF  ON  THE  LEFT"      .      .      .      .  276 

XIII.  "I  WANT  THE  WEST  AGAIN"      ....  298 

XIV.  "  ON  THE  LONG  TRAIL  " 322 

XV.  "  THE  BARREN  GROUNDS  " 346 

XVI.  "  THE  LAW  Is  POWERLESS  THERE  "...  365 

XVII.  "  BUT  THAT  CAN'T  BE  " 377 

XVIII.  "  THE  EPITOME  OF  LIFE  " 396 

XIX.  "THE  LONE  PATROL" 417 

XX.  "You  MEAN  TO  Do  IT?" 435 

XXI.  "  THIS  PSYCHOLOGICAL  ADVENTURE  "      .      .  454 

XXII.  "  WHAT  ETERNAL  CHILDREN  WE  ARE  "  470 


THE    LAW-BRINGERS 


CHAPTER    I 

"  TWO     WHO     WERE     FRIENDS  " 

OVER  the  firred  hill-top,  behind  the  squat  freighter's  shack 
the  wind  came,  shouting  strongly.  It  clattered  the  stiff 
saskatoon  bushes,  and  thrust  at  the  young  poplars  until 
they  ran  in  yellow  waves  along  the  crest,  and  leapt  down 
on  the  river  with  a  bullying  roar  that  drove  the  water 
into  startled  foam.  All  across  the  sky  the  clouds  were 
reefing,  tall  as  churches,  to  the  westward  where  the  sun 
lay,  like  a  blot  of  red  paint,  on  clouds  livid  as  bruised 
flesh. 

There  was  a  moan  in  the  air;  an  uneasiness,  as  though 
Nature  was  afraid,  not  knowing  why.  Down  the  grey  line 
of  the  river  a  loon  flew,  low  and  swift.  It  cried  out, 
turning  its  bold  black  head  left  and  right;  and  the  harsh, 
unearthly  sound  struck  a  note  of  warning  to  the  man  who 
shot  round  the  cotton-wood  promontory  with  the  long,  tire- 
less, white-man  paddle-stroke.  He  swung  the  canoe-nose 
for  the  shore  by  the  shack  and  halted,  gripping  the  bunch- 
grass  with  a  strong  hand,  and  glancing  left  and  right  with 
bold,  keen  eyes,  even  as  the  loon  had  done. 

Up-stream  the  cut-banks  veered  in,  rough  rock  and  tall 
earth-faces  seamed  with  forest.  Across  the  river,  where 
the  spruces  stood,  black-shouldered  against  the  west,  the 
wind  was  stringing  wild  harmonies  such  as  the  seamen 
know,  and  in  the  clearing  the  yellowed  grass  sighed  and 
shuddered,  over-ripe  for  the  scythe. 

The  man  looked  at  the  shack,  bringing  his  eyes  back, 
step  by  step,  over  the  grass  to  the  water-lip.  Then  he 
came  ashore,  hauling  his  canoe  after  him,  and  stood  up- 
right to  fill  his  pipe.  He  had  read  all  that  the  clumsily- 
hidden  grass-trail  had  to  tell,  and  all  that  was  meant  by 
the  clumsily-hidden  nose  of  that  canoe  in  the  brush-pile. 
This  was  a  trap;  laid  skilfully,  but  not  skilfully  enough, 
for  it  explained  itself  to  the  keen-eyed  man  as  a  trap.  It 
explained  a  little  more;  just  enough  to  bring  a  tight  smile 

11 


12  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

to  the  sun-blistered  lips  as  the  man  lit  his  pipe  under  the 
curve  of  a  well-shaped  hand  scarred  with  rough  work. 
This  was  the  end  of  the  long,  stern  chase  through  three 
full  months  of  storm  and  sunshine.  This  was  the  end,  with 
defiance  to  the  Law  in  place  of  submission — and  defiance 
with  a  solid  log-and-daub  shack  wall  before  it. 

There  was  not  any  doubt  that  he  had  been  watched  from 
the  moment  when  the  canoe  nosed  the  sedgy  bank  of  the 
clearing.  The  man  smiled  again,  ground  the  match  out 
under  a  moccasined  heel,  jerked  his  revolver  into  easy  posi- 
tion for  sharp  work,  and  walked  straight  for  the  shack 
door  with  the  springy,  alert  step  that  tells  of  the  drill- 
yard.  On  his  shoulders  the  pale  khaki  of  his  tunic  had 
faded  to  a  dirty  blurr;  one  of  the  black  buffalo-head  collar- 
badges,  which  marked  him  as  a  unit  of  the  Royal  North- 
West  Mounted  Police  of  Canada  out  hunting,  was  missing, 
and  his  Stetson  hat  looked  as  though  it  had  been  slept  in 
more  often  than  his  bed  for  these  many  weeks  past. 

His  loins  were  cramped  with  the  canoe-ache  and  his  body 
dried  up  with  heat.  But  he  walked  lightly,  with  the  wind 
plucking  at  him  petulantly  and  the  sunset  flooding  into  the 
clearing  until  the  grass  seemed  to  splash  away  in  spurts  of 
blood  from  his  steady  feet.  And,  behind  that  sagging  door 
and  those  eyeless  windows,  the  man  whom  he  had  hunted 
so  long  was  waiting  him  at  last.  In  the  Blue  Books  the  one 
man  was  down  as  Reg.  No.  4769  Corporal  Heriot,  R.  L., 
and  the  other  as  Samuel  Moonias,  half-breed,  wanted  on 
two  charges  of  murder.  But  no  living  soul  called  Moonias 
by  his  first  name,  any  more  than  they  called  Dick  Heriot 
by  his  second,  although  there  were  many  who  used  the 
same  terms  of  disapprobation  for  both. 

Dick's  inner  knowledge,  that  special  gift  to  the  roving 
men  who  guard  their  lives  by  head  and  hand,  had  put  the 
situation  crystal-clear  before  him.  Moonias  had  a  duck- 
gun  only,  one  loaded  with  extra-heavy  slugs  and  given  to 
kicking.  Moonias  believed  that  Dick,  thinking  he  had  come 
ashore  for  sleep,  would  go  in,  swift  and  straightly,  expect- 
ing to  catch  him  unready.  Because  of  these  things  Moonias 
would  wait  for  a  close  shot.  One  in  the  face  as  Dick 
pushed  the  door  open,  most  likely.  He  might  try  a  pot- 
shot from  the  window.  Chance  would  have  to  take  care  of 


"TWO    WHO    WERE   FRIENDS"          13 

the  other  man  then.     But  if  it  was  the  door Dick 

leapt  the  last  three  feet  like  a  slung  stone,  splintering  the 
crazy  door  on  its  one  hinge,  and  bearing  down  beneath  the 
wood  Moonias  and  his  duck-gun.  The  exoloding  charge 
blew  a  turf  of  thatch  off  the  roof,  and  on  the  earth  floor 
the  two  men  clinched  grimly,  dumb,  sweating;  with  the  net 
of  death  shaken  out  loosely  to  catch  them,  and  that  un- 
healthy red  of  the  sunset  spurting  over  wide-bladed  knife 
and  revolver-barrel. 

The  half-breed  was  brutally  strong;  but  that  finer,  su- 
perber  courage  which  God  gives  the  gentlemen  of  His  earth 
when  they  have  absolved  themselves  from  most  of  the  other 
merits  brought  the  handcuffs  round  Moonias'  thick  wrists 
at  last.  Then  Dick  rose  lightly ;  breathed,  but  civil. 

"  You  put  up  a  good  fight,  Moonias,"  he  said.  "  And 
though  it's  not  manners  to  resist  the  Law,  I  don't  blame 
you.  No,  not  at  all.  But  I  do  blame  you  for  not  seeing 
the  strategic  possibilities  of  that  window,  though  I  guessed 
you  wouldn't.  Get  up." 

He  went  through  the  half-breed's  pockets,  nodded,  and 
turned  on  his  heel. 

"  You  likely  know  better  than  to  try  any  game  with  those 
on  you,"  he  said,  and  the  words  broke  with  a  yawn.  "  I 
think  we  can  do  with  some  sleep,  Moonias.  I  haven't  had 
any  for  three  nights,  and  I'll  swear  you  haven't  either. 
That's  why  you  made  such  a  damned  bad  break  in  your 
judgment,  maybe.  Get  right  over  into  that  corner." 

The  breed  obeyed,  and  flung  himself  down  straightway 
in  that  animal  acceptance  of  the  inevitable  which  was  his 
heritage.  Whistling  softly,  Dick  crossed  to  what  looked 
like  a  pile  of  old  feed-sacks  in  the  dark  under  the  window, 
laid  hold  of  them  with  both  hands,  and  exploded  into  a 
sudden  oath  that  straightened  him  up  with  the  force  of  it. 
Then  he  stooped  again;  slid  his  arms  round  the  man  who 
lay  huddled  there,  and  carried  him  out  into  the  thin  slivers 
of  light  which  were  all  the  low  sun  sent  through  the 
spruces. 

The  man  was  dripping  with  water.  His  legs  left  a  wet 
trail  as  Dick  dragged  him  over  the  earth  floor,  and  his 
long  arms  and  bare  head  fell  limp.  Moonias  stared  out  of 
his  shock  of  coarse  hair  with  a  sudden  eye-glitter. 


14  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  Him  finish,"  he  said,  and  the  cluck  of  his  tongue  was 
pure  satisfaction. 

"  I  wish  you  were  going  to  be  lynched,"  said  Dick  un- 
emotionally. "  I'd  invite  every  man  along  the  river  to 
mark  you.  I  imagine  you're  responsible  for  this,  eh?  It's 
probably  the  Sergeant  from  Grey  Wolf  by  his  stripes. 
But " 

His  voice  broke  short  as  he  pulled  the  white  face  up 
across  his  knee  in  the  red  level  track  of  the  light.  Stark 
river  and  clearing,  and  pines  blackening  in  the  night 
changed  in  a  flash  to  an  orchard  of  bees  and  apple- 
blossoms  ;  to  a  scent  of  thyme  that  sickened  his  memory  to 
this  day,  and  to  a  girl's  sobbing  voice  saying  words  that  did 
not  hold  Tempest's  name  and  that  yet  were  full  of  Tem- 
pest. A  cruel  look  came  into  his  eyes  as  he  stared  down 
on  the  still  face  with  the  short  drooped  upper  lip  and  the 
well-set  jaw  and  throat. 

"  If  you  married  her  she  made  you  pay  for  it,  or  you 
wouldn't  be  here,"  he  said  to  it.  "  And  if  you  didn't — 
was  it  she  who  lied,  and  not  you  ?  " 

The  face  gave  no  answer.  The  red  rays  slid  off  it, 
leaving  it  ashen.  And  then  Dick  took  in  his  hands  the 
body  of  this  man  whose  heart  he  once  had  known  and 
tended  it  skilfully;  binding  the  forearm  that  was  broken 
just  below  the  elbow,  and  strapping  as  best  he  might  the 
flesh  that  a  dead  snag  in  the  river  had  ripped  open. 

"  Spilt  out  of  his  canoe,  of  course,"  he  said.  '"  You  have 
a  clean  sheet  there,  Moonias.  Unless — did  you  bring  him 
in?" 

The  breed  grunted.  He  seemed  to  feel  no  hate  towards 
Dick,  no  interest  in  the  man  whom  he  had  salvaged  from 
the  river. 

"  Aha,"  he  said.    "  But  him  no  gun.    No  use  him." 

Dick's  brief  smile  had  a  little  bitter  twist  to  it. 

"  We  are  not  all  so  frank  regarding  the  reasons  for  our 
actions,  my  friend,"  he  said,  lightly.  "  Now,  if " 

And  then  Tempest  opened  his  eyes  wide  and  wonder- 
ing as  a  child's,  and  looked  up  at  the  man  above  him. 
He  seemed  like  one  in  a  waking  dream,  who  hears  the 
ghosts  of  other  years  light-heeled  about  his  head. 

"  The  wind  is  bitter  bad  across  the  Barren  Lands  to- 


"TWO    WHO    WERE    FRIENDS"          15 

niglit,  Dick,"  he  said.  "  I  saw  a  wolverine  white  as  a 
leper  just  now." 

The  rowel  of  memory  touched  him.  He  sat  up  with  his 
brown,  sensitive  face  hardening,  and  the  other  looked  at 
him  through  the  mask  of  amused  indifference  which  hid 
him  when  he  cared  to  hide.  For  a  lie  lay  between  these 
two;  high  as  a  woman's  yellow  head,  and  unstable  as  the 
young  love  they  both  had  given  her.  Tempest  asked  ques- 
tions, and  Dick  answered  civilly,  according  to  his  station. 
Then  he  turned  his  back  on  Tempest,  and  walked  to  the 
door,  looking  out.  The  sun  was  dead  on  the  livid  bowl 
of  the  sky  and  the  pale  river  where  the  wind  blew.  His 
love  for  the  yellow-haired  woman  had  been  dead  long 
since.  But  his  love  for  this  man  who  had  trodden  the 
outer  trails  of  the  north  with  him  was  quick  yet;  how 
quick  he  had  not  known  until  he  felt  the  shivering  beat 
of  Tempest's  heart  under  his  hand  just  now. 

Later,  he  brought  food  from  his  canoe;  lit  the  rusty, 
broken  stove,  and  spread  his  thin  waterproof  mattress  and 
his  blanket  for  Tempest.  This  was  bare  duty  only  be- 
cause of  that  extra  stripe  on  Tempest's  sleeve.  Then, 
using  still  the  language  of  passers-by,  they  lay  down; 
Tempest  in  restless  pain  by  the  stove,  and  Dick  on  the 
threshold,  with  cheek  on  arm  and  his  revolver  pushed  like 
the  nose  of  a  dog  into  his  palm.  And  beyond  their  sleep- 
ing bodies  stretched  that  great  land  which  had  fashioned 
and  hardened  them;  which  had  known  the  tread  of  their 
moccasins  along  the  forest-trails  beaten  asphalt-smooth  by 
the  passing  of  many  generations,  and  had  heard  their 
voices  call  each  other  across  rivers  that  had  never  parted 
them  as  the  after  years  had  done. 

In  the  morning  Dick  found  a  sturgeon-head  scow  in  the 
reeds,  and  he  went  to  Tempest,  suggesting  with  colourless 
civility  the  advisability  of  tracking  her  up  river  with 
Tempest  aboard. 

"  She  has  probably  got  loose  from  Pitcher  Portage,"  he 
said.  "  Moonias  has  ripped  the  side  out  of  his  canoe,  and 
you've  lost  yours.  We  could  freight  all  we  have  left  on 
the  scow." 

Tempest  nodded  consent.  He  walked  and  moved  with 
the  crisp  strength  Dick  knew  of  old,  and  his  eyes  were 


16  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

vital,  forelooking,  despite  the  pain  in  them.  He  was 
dreamer  still;  dreaming  mightily,  as  he  had  once  dreamed 
with  Dick  in  those  long-past  mornings  of  life,  that  the 
other  man  would  not  think  of  now.  But  sudden  memory 
of  them  roughened  Dick's  easy  manner  a  little  as  he  fitted 
his  breast  to  the  strap  that  clipped  him  from  shoulder  to 
arm-pit,  even  as,  two  yards  further  along  the  thin  tow- 
line,  a  similar  strap  clipped  Moonias. 

When  the  two  men  had  first  fallen  apart  at  the  touch  of 
the  yellow-haired  girl,  a  desperation  of  pain  had  driven 
Dick  into  more  evil  than  the  straight  clean  work  of  these 
latter  days  would  wipe  out  of  his  face  again.  Then  he 
sickened  of  it;  sickened  of  what  the  town-cradled  men  and 
women  could  give  him.  And  then,  because  he  had  denied 
all  law  and  all  gods  in  his  madness  of  soul,  he  chose  to 
fit  the  yoke  of  the  Law  to  his  neck,  and  to  take  his  oath 
to  it  in  the  name  of  God.  And  after  that  he  did  his 
penance  daily. 

For  the  Wild  was  the  only  mistress  who  could  ever 
hold  Dick's  soul  for  long,  and  the  Wild  had  whistled  him 
back  to  her  so  many  times  of  late.  Whistled  him  back 
in  the  long,  far,  sharp-smelling  sedges  where  the  wild  duck 
fly  south  in  thin,  black,  broken  lines,  and  the  red  sun  sets 
alone  in  the  silence;  whistled  him  back  where  Lake  Atha- 
baska  and  the  Great  Slave  roll  their  stately  deep-sea  har- 
monies below  horizon;  where  the  rivers  brawl,  driving 
their  jetsam  north  to  meet  the  ice;  where  the  snow-tang 
savours  the  air  with  its  promise,  and  the  caribou  lift  their 
heads,  winding  man,  and  the  keen  wolf-cry  drifts  over  the 
stilling  land. 

To-day  that  haunting,  heart-pulling  whistle  was  silent. 
To-day,  when  he  leaned  in  the  traces  as  canal-horses  lean, 
side-stepping  the  rough  track  irregularly,  with  the  humped 
shoulders  of  Moonias  before  him.  All  the  sun  of  these 
last  breathless  fall  days  was  cast  down  into  the  thin  gut 
of  the  river.  The  far  sky  was  sick-white  with  heat.  The 
coulees  were  brimful  of  it.  Along  the  mighty  web  of 
water-veins  that  bring  blood  to  Canada's  heart  it  reeled 
in  giddy  mirage,  and  it  danced  in  the  clearings  like  a  thing 
alive.  The  smell  of  heat  was  abroad  on  the  earth;  sharp, 
clean  and  resinous  in  the  tang  of  spruce  and  jack-pine; 


"TWO    WHO    WERE    FRIENDS"          17 

warm  and  dusty  in  the  grass  that  seeded  where  a  burn  had 
run  last  year;  evil  in  the  rotting  weed  above  the  water-line, 
and  strangely  intoxicating  in  the  dry  breath  of  forest- 
fires  that  made  haze  of  the  blue  tumbled  hills  to  west- 
ward. 

Dick  stooped  as  he  pulled,  taking  the  smite  of  the  heat 
on  his  burnt  forehead,  and  his  sweat  ran  down  to  the 
earth,  as  each  tangled  loop  of  river  was  rounded,  and  each 
bold  breast  of  forest  slid  by.  He  was  tough  as  the  men 
of  the  north  needs  must  be;  brown,  and  wiry,  and  spare. 
But  the  long  months  of  canoe- work  had  slacked  his  leg- 
muscles  more  than  he  knew,  and  Moonias,  setting  his  un- 
tiring pace  in  the  strength  of  a  half-breed  nursed  on  the 
river,  became  a  living  instrument  of  punishment.  But  if 
Moonias  was  punishment  to  Dick,  the  man  who  trod  the 
thwart  of  the  blunt-nosed  scow  which  left  a  wake  like  a 
liner  was  hell.  For  he  was  What  Was,  and  What  Might 
Have  Been,  and  What  Couldn't  Be.  He  jerked  into  life 
again  memories  which  Dick  had  buried  with  care,  and 
their  resurrection  was  a  shameful  and  unpleasant  thing. 

And  Tempest,  breasting  the  sweep  through  the  long 
hours,  had  memories  too.  He  was  thinking  of  something 
which  Molson  of  Regina  Barracks  had  once  told  him 
concerning  a  certain  Corporal  of  E  Division  who  had 
offended  Molson. 

"  For  absolute  cold-drawn  callousness  and  impudence 
you  can  commend  me  to  him,"  said  Molson.  "  He  has 
the  blackest  sheet  of  any  man  in  the  Force,  and  yet  he's 
the  best  man  we've  got  on  the  trail.  You  can't  whip  him 
off  it  once  he  has  sensed  it.  He'll  go  till  he's  dead — and 
after.  And  he  knows  his  worth,  and  takes  advantage  of 
it.  Eh  ?  Oh,  well ;  what's  the  matter  with  all  of  this  sort  ? 
Drink,  cards,  women — anything  at  all.  He  takes  his 
pleasures  where  he  likes,  and  he's  completely  indifferent 
to  punishment.  We  give  him  all  the  lone  patrol  work  we 
can,  and  he's  superb  at  it.  I  should  imagine  he  has  been 
pretty  effectively  through  the  mill  in  his  time." 

"  Gentleman,  of  course  ?  "   said  Tempest. 

"  Sure.  A  lineal  descendant  by  right  of  spirit  from  '  the 
Worshipful  Company  of  Gentleman-adventurers  trading 
with  Prince  Rupert  in  the  North  Seas  '  in  the  days  when 


18  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

the  Hudson  Bay  Company  was  born.  And  he  is  certainly 
one  of  the  drift  of  the  world — one  of  the  homeless 
men." 

"  We  need  those  men/'  said  Tempest.  "  They  break 
out  the  new  flags  of  Empire,  and  beat  the  new  trails. 
And  die  the  old  deaths  when  all's  done.  What's  his 
name?  " 

Molson  gave  it.  And  thereafter  Tempest  had  sat  silent 
as  he  stood  silent  now,  thinking  of  the  man  who  had  been 
his  friend. 

He  had  known  Dick  with  rather  unusual  intimacy  in 
the  days  of  their  raw  boyhood  and  adolescence,  and  even 
then  he  had  known  of  the  inner  fastness  in  the  big,  hu- 
morous, good-looking  boy  who  flashed  so  swiftly  from  lazy 
indifference  to  a  blaze  of  temper.  An  inner  fastness  which 
he  never  could  penetrate,  for  all  the  real  love  they  bore 
each  other.  Now,  in  the  light  of  later  knowledge,  Tem- 
pest wondered  if  Dick  had  held  that  fastness,  ashamed 
and  half-afraid,  knowing  it  for  the  embryo  of  his  future 
life;  the  thing  which  the  world  was  to  make  him. 

He  glanced  from  Dick's  tattered  tunic  in  the  scow  to 
Dick  himself,  treading  the  tracking-step  with  loose-swung 
arms  and  slack  hips  and  head  low.  Where  dried  grass  was 
slippery  under  heel;  where  branches  whipped  their  faces, 
and  cut-banks  broke  under  their  hands;  and  where  the 
track  led  them  hip-high  in  the  snow-shed  water,  the  two 
men  passed,  silent  and  uncomplaining.  Half-breeds  live 
this  life  six  months  in  the  year  for  perhaps  eight  years. 
Then  they  drop  out,  crippled  and  helpless,  and  the  water- 
ways of  Canada  forget  them,  and  for  them  the  roaring 
hotels  at  the  "  Landings  "  and  the  jovial  talk  and  laughter 
are  gone  by.  A  white  man  usually  suffers  in  the  lines. 
He  is  not  fitted  for  them,  and  the  quarter-hour  rest  every 
forty  minutes  does  no  more  than  give  his  over-strained 
muscles  time  to  stiffen. 

Knowing  all  this,  Tempest  spoke  to  Dick  at  the  next 
halt;  choosing  his  words  carefully,  as  is  needful  with  the 
man  who  has  been  one's  friend. 

"  I  fancy  we'd  best  camp  on  the  trail  to-night,"  he 
said.  "  The  Portage  is  going  to  be  rather  a.  long  stunt 
for  one  day." 


"TWO    WHO    WERE    FRIENDS"          19 

Dick  looked  at  him  through  half-shut  eyes,  and  the  smile 
on  his  lips  was  unpleasant.  He  was  too  tired  to  allow  it 
to  any  man — least  of  all  to  Tempest. 

"  You  have  got  the  right  spirit  for  the  North- West,"  he 
said  suavely. 

Tempest  flushed.  The  golding  western  light  was  in  his 
thick,  bright  hair,  and  the  eager  face  which  no  weariness 
could  blurr.  He  looked  curiously  vital  with  the  shaggy 
forehead  of  the  bank  behind  him  in  its  red  and  yellow 
glory. 

"  Exactly,"  he  said  quietly.  "  I  know  when  we  have 
had  enough." 

"  Ah,"  said  Dick,  and  the  sneer  of  his  smile  had  got 
into  his  voice.  "  I  have  heard  vulgar  men  call  that 
knowledge  cold  feet." 

He  turned  on  his  heel,  with  a  contemptuous  swing, 
climbed  the  low  bank,  and  flung  himself  down  in  shade  of 
the  young  poplars  and  tall  raspberry  bushes.  But  his 
dark  bold  eyes  were  not  contemptuous ;  they  were  angry, 
as  a  man  has  a  right  to  be  angry  when  forced  into  con- 
tact with  a  better  man  than  himself.  Dick  had  been  a 
drunkard  of  Life  all  his  days.  He  had  wronged  men  and 
fought  with  them;  he  had  loved  women,  and  wasted  the 
wine  of  his  heritage ;  and  if  he  had  found  huge  joy  in 
the  doing  of  these  things  he  found  little  in  the  remem- 
brance. But  Tempest  was  the  same  fine,  gallant  soul  of 
earlier  years ;  still  climbing  his  way  upward,  with  eyes 
lit  and  hair  blown  back  by  the  wind  of  the  heights.  He 
had  governed  himself  in  wisdom  while  Dick's  temper  had 
governed  him  as  a  fool;  and  the  difference  lay  stark  and 
wide  between  them  now  for  all  men  to  understand.  But 
the  little  canker  of  cynical  laughter  which  lived  in  Dick's 
heart  came  to  his  aid. 

"  For  though  it  might  frighten  him  to  live  with  my 
memories  it  would  certainly  bore  me  to  death  to  live  with 
his,"  he  said ;  and  got  up  and  went  down  the  bank  again 
in  obedience  to  the  long  guttural  cry  of  the  breed.  On  the 
beach  he  found  Tempest  standing  in  the  traces  with  Moon- 
ias  a  thicker  bulk  before  him,  and  he  halted,  smiling. 

"  When  a  man  shows  he  is  stung  there  is  generally  rea- 
son for  it/'  he  said. 


20  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  Get  into  the  scow  and  pole/'  said  Tempest  quietly. 
"  We're  wasting  daylight." 

"  Get  out  of  that  strap,"  said  Dick  in  sudden  rough- 
ness. "  You  know  you  can't  pull."  And  then  Tempest 
looked  him  between  the  eyes. 

"  You're  in  a  lone  patrol,  my  man,"  he  said.  "  But 
when  you  come  in  contact  with  your  superiors  you'll  do 
them  the  honour  of  remembering  that  they  are  your  su- 
periors. Now,  get  into  that  scow — sharp." 

He  fitted  the  belt  to  his  waist,  for  the  broken  arm  was 
strapped  over  his  breast,  and  trod  forward  to  take  up  the 
slack.  And  in  the  trace  before  him  Moonias  bowed  his 
black  bullet  head  with  the  groan  of  a  bull.  Dick  flung 
himself  over  the  thwart  and  laid  hands  on  the  idle  sweep; 
and  behind  his  amusement  at  Tempest's  moral  reproof 
stood  the  uneasy  knowledge  that  he  was  not  obeying  the 
superior  officer  only,  but  the  superior  man. 

The  hour  dropped  through  brief  twilight  into  dark. 
Sharp  bush-scents  moved  on  the  quickening  chill  of  the 
air.  Stars  opened  wide  and  calm  over  the  forest,  laying 
reflections  as  calm  on  the  river  until  the  scow  burst  them 
into  a  myriad  meteors.  Back  in  the  trails  a  brown  bear 
swung  his  clumsy  way  and  a  red  dog-fox  flicked  like  a 
passing  thought.  That  tense  silence  which  is  the  essence 
of  sound  strengthened  as  the  forest-life  waked  and  walked. 
In  the  dusk  the  crashing  of  the  two  men  on  the  bank 
marked  their  way.  In  the  scow  the  third  man  trod  the 
treadmill  step  to  the  sweep.  But  their  bodies  were  hid 
from  each  other  even  as  their  hearts  were  hid. 

Past  a  snake-fence  and  a  clearing  three  Indian  dogs 
came  racing,  pallid  blurrs  like  strayed  souls  on  the  dark. 
A  white-man's  voice  roared  at  them,  and  a  white-man 
tread  came  down  the  river  over  the  level-laid  swathes 
of  hay.  And  then  Dick  heard  Randal  of  Pitcher's  Port- 
age calling: 

"  Give  us  a  holt  there.  My — is  that  you,  Sergeant  ? 
Well,  I've  got  a  fire  an'  some  grub  up  to  the  shack.  Turn- 
in'  cold,  ain't  it?  " 

The  scow  felt  the  new  vigour  of  the  pull  and  made  a 
squattering,  snuffling  haste  through  the  water.  Round  the 
bend  Randal's  home-lights  swung  in  sight,  and  to  Tern- 


"TWO    WHO    WERE    FRIENDS"          21 

pest,  heavily  staggering  over  the  beaten  trail,  came  the 
vision  of  what  home-lights  mean  to  a  man  in  this  land  of 
the  last  West.  For  these  are  very  truly  the  home-lights 
of  Canada;  of  the  mother  who  breeds  and  binds  her  sons 
from  the  East  to  the  West  and  takes  into  sonship  those 
who  come  to  her  from  the  outer  seas.  By  the  naked  frame- 
house  on  the  ocean  of  prairie  she  sits  waiting;  by  the  lone 
shack  of  yellow  pine  in  the  Rockies;  at  the  door  of  the 
Indian  tepee  in  the  forest;  at  the  white  tent  in  the  white 
silence  of  the  Barren  Lands.  And  night  by  night  they 
come  home  to  her,  those  sons ;  going  with  the  tread  of  tired 
men  across  the  blowing  peairie-grass,  stepping  sure-foot 
among  the  towering  glaciers  of  the  ranges,  brushing  quick 
feet  through  the  fallen  gold  of  the  forest-trails,  kicking 
powdered  dust  or  snow  as  powder-dry  before  them  out 
where  the  trees  fail  and  the  winds  stand  up  and  scream  at 
the  silence  and  the  tent-ropes  squeal  to  the  strain. 

They  come  home:  to  sleep,  and  to  tell  of  the  day's  les- 
sons in  the  knowledge  of  men  who  have  learnt  first-hand 
in  this  merciful,  merciless  great  nursery  of  beginnings 
which  we  call  Life.  And  she  sits  and  listens,  the  mother; 
heartening  the  weak,  who  fear  and  slide  round  the  edges 
of  understanding,  scarifying  the  cheat  in  the  Anight  when 
the  big  lonely  places  do  their  talking,  giving  comfort  to 
the  gallant  courage  that  could  not  win  out,  and  boisterous 
laughter  to  the  daring  men  who  have  stripped  themselves 
naked  that  they  may  buy  broadcloth  and  joy  of  the  gam- 
bler Chance. 

Tempest  stood  aside  with  his  heart  watching  those  home- 
lights  while  the  scow  was  run  up,  the  freight  unloaded, 
and  Moonias  put  into  a  large  shed  with  a  lock  and  a  run- 
ning door. 

"  Reckon  that'll  holt  him  safe,"  said  Randal.  "  The 
linemen  kep*  all  their  lumber  into  it  when  they  was  layin' 
this  section.  Come  right  along  to  the  shack." 

Over  the  door-sill  Dick  trod  on  something  soft  that 
gave,  making  no  sound.  Lifted  up  it  proved  itself  an  In- 
dian baby,  staring  with  black,  placid  eyes  and  round, 
pursed  mouth. 

"  Yours  ?  "  he  asked  idly,  and  saw  Randal's  eyes  go 
suddenly  bloodshot. 


22  THE    LAW-BRIXGERS 

"Mine!  What  d'yer  take  me  for?  It  belongs  to  that 
tepee  acrost  the  clearing.  They're  e-ternally  crawlin'  in 
here,  the  little  beasts — like  they  was  flies — or  bugs.  Chuck 
it  down,  an'  let  it  crawl  home." 

Dick  arranged  the  baby  wth  its  nose  in  a  direct  line 
with  the  tepee ;  watched  its  progress  for  two  yards  towards 
the  band  of  light,  then  followed  into  the  shack. 

The  shack  was  more  crowded  than  most  shacks;  for, 
besides  the  inevitable  black  stove,  narrow  bunk,  box  with 
tin  basin,  boots,  team-harness,  gun,  axes,  and  other  neces- 
saries, there  was  a  telephone  battery  in  the  north  wall  and 
a  counter  behind  which  Randal  had  served  the  line-camp 
running  east  under  the  window.  Outside  were  some  thou- 
sand miles  of  sweeping  forest  and  plain,  of  river  and 
lonely  ranges.  Beyond  lay  big,  glowing,  noisy  towns, 
where  men  hived,  humming  and  throbbing  with  vivid  life, 
and  Randal  held  on  to  them  by  the  little  steel  key  of  the 
battery.  Through  the  winter  he  would  guard  his  line-sec- 
tion from  fallen  trees  and  snow  as  best  he  might.  Through 
spring  and  fall  and  summer  he  would  be  there;  selling 
tinned  foods  and  cereals  and  chewing-gum  to  the  line- 
camps,  and  taking  and  transmitting  messages  concerning 
the  on-going  work.  And  in  between  he  watched  half-breed 
Indian  babies  crawl  into  his  shack,  suck  his  team-harness 
in  the  simple  belief  that  it  was  moosemeat,  and  crawl  out 
again.  Besides,  he  chewed  a  great  deal  of  gum,  and  pass- 
ing freighters  generally  stopped  to  talk. 

Dick  kept  his  eyes  from  Tempest  through  the  meal  of 
beans  and  bacon  helped  out  with  Randal's  sodden  ban- 
nock. He  knew  that  the  man  was  suffering  acutely,  and 
he  was  glad  of  it.  For  hate  still  held,  iron-hard,  against 
the  love  that  had  been.  Then  Tempest  got  in  a  corner 
with  his  pipe,  dropping  out  of  the  talk  and  out  of  the 
smudge  of  light  from  the  dirty  coal-oil  lamp.  Randal  sat 
full  in  the  gleam  of  it,  chewing  in  slow  content.  He  was 
like  a  cow  in  his  great,  awkward  strength,  and  like  a  cow 
in  his  indifference  to  most  subjects  until  Dick  chanced  on 
the  one  concerning  which  Randal  was  morbidly  rabid.  He 
sat  up,  thrusting  his  rugged  face  forward. 

"  Who  lives  in  the  tepee?  "  he  said.  "  Who  orter  live  in 
a  tepee  but  a  Injun  an'  his  squaw?  An*  who  do  live  there 


"TWO    WHO    WERE    FRIENDS"          23 

but  a  heathen  Russian  Jew  an'  his  squaw?"  He  flung  out  a 
stubby  hand  where  the  thumb  was  blackened  by  the  pipe- 
dottel.  "  What  right  or  call  have  we  wi'  heathen  foreign- 
ers in  this  land  ?  "  he  said.  "  Give  me  the  men  o'  my  own 
breed.  They're  rotten  some,  but  I  know  how  an'  why.  I 
can  deal  wi'  them.  But  I'll  have  no  dealin's  wi'  a  Rus- 
sian Jew  what's  gotten  a  squaw  for  wife,  an'  a  bunch  o' 
papooses  nasty  as  hisself.  What  do  we  want  wi'  his  breed 
in  our  country?  What  do  we  want  wi'  him?" 

"  We  must  colonise,"  said  Dick  derisively. 

Randal  sat  back  with  a  grunt. 

"  Colonise  be What  for  do  we  want  to  colonise  wi' 

the  alien  for?  Why  arn't  England  sendin'  us  more  of  her 
own?  By  all  accounts  she's  got  about  a  couple  or  more 
too  many  in  that  London  o'  hers.  Why  arn't  she  sendin' 
them  to  us — an'  why  arn't  we  waitin'  on  her  ?  " 

Dick  spoke  with  intimate  remembrance  of  some  men 
whom  he  knew. 

"  They  are  not  entirely  immaculate  either,"  he  sug- 
gested. 

"What  o'  that?  They  come  o'  like  blood.  You  can 
reckon  what  they'll  do  if  a  man  hits  or  curses  them.  But 
the  Lord  A'mighty  couldn't  reckon  on  a  Russian  Jew — 
what's  gotten  a  squaw  to  wife.  That  Russian  acrost  there 
— he  took  my  axe  last  week,  an'  I  tole  him  bring  it  back. 
Sakes,  he  had  the  woman  an'  kids  into  that  tepee  like  he 
thought  I  was  goin'  to  eat  the  whole  bunch.  I  don't  know 
how  to  handle  his  sort,  an'  I  don't  want."  Randal  spat 
out  of  the  door;  solemnly,  reflectively,  like  one  perform- 
ing a  rite.  "  Give  me  the  men  o'  my  own  breed,"  he  said 
again. 

"  Does  he  ill-treat  the  squaw  ?  "  demanded  Dick. 

Randal  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Not  more'n  nat'ral,"  he  said. 

"Which  means — not  more  than  the  men  of  our  own 
breed."  Dick  laughed.  "  Lord  knows  what  the  Cana- 
dian of  the  future  is  going  to  be,"  he  said.  "  But  he  won't 
be  that  crawling  baby  with  the  high  cheekbones,  and  he 
won't  quite — be  you  or  me.  If  he  has  luck  he  may  be  a 
better  man  than  either  of  us.  Where  are  you  going  to  bed 
us  down  to-night,  Randal  ?  " 


24  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  Sergeant  can  have  the  bunk — I  reckon  he's  asleep 
right  now,  ain't  he?  An'  you  can  spread  your  kit  behind 
the  counter.  J'm  goin'  to  sleep  in  the  extension." 

He  nodded  and  went  out,  and  Dick  heard  his  heavy 
tread  round  the  shack-corner,  among  the  refuse  of  spent 
bottles  and  tins.  It  ceased  with  the  slamming  of  a  door 
somewhere,  and  Dick  crossed  the  floor  to  Tempest. 

"  I'm  sleeping  behind  the  counter/'  he  said.  "  Randal 
left  the  bunk  for  you." 

Tempest's  eyelids  flickered  open,  but  the  grey  lines 
round  the  mouth  did  not  relax. 

"  Thanks/'  he  said. 

Dick  hesitated  an  instant.  Then  he  turned  sharp  on 
his  heel;  walked  to  his  corner,  pulled  the  blankets  over 
him  and  lay  still.  But  he  did  not  sleep.  So  much  had 
come  and  gone  since  first  he  and  Tempest  had  answered 
to  the  wild  winds  calling  and  had  swung  out  with  bold 
forehead  against  the  blast  and  a  careless  whistle  up  the 
dark  fir  trail.  So  much  had  gone.  Dick  watched  with 
wide  eyes  where,  beyond  the  open  door,  the  light  from  the 
tepee  died  down  and  out.  The  night  was  very  still.  Stars 
rode  in  sight  above  the  pointing  pines.  The  slow  talk  of 
the  river  grew  louder.  Somewhere  one  stick  cracked  as  a 
small  night  animal  sprang  to  its  kill.  And  either  side 
the  shack  two  men  lay  motionless,  with  senses  taut 
with  the  contact  of  each  to  each;  knowing  the  pull  and 
the  resistance  in  each  quivering  nerve,  and  fighting  it 
sternly. 

And  to  each  man  the  Voices  of  the  Dark  were  speaking, 
and  each  man  was  interpreting  as  loneliness  had  taught 
him  to  do.  For  those  voices  can  never  be  understood  of 
the  men  who  walk  with  the  firm  shoulder  of  a  friend  be- 
side them,  or  the  warm  cheek  of  a  woman  laid  to  their  own. 
They  sing  a  battle-song — but  it  is  for  the  lonely  man. 
They  flash  light  down  the  long  trail,  where  one  pair  of 
feet  shall  tread.  With  the  deep  lancet-plunge  of  reality 
they  innoculate  in  man  the  inevitable  lesson — the  need  for 
facing  life's  fires  with  shut  lips  and  ready  hands  and 
Death's  grey  waters  with  a  jest. 

Dick  stirred  in  his  bankets  with  a  bitten-off  groan.  The 
nightwind  was  blowing  on  his  face,  bringing  the  smell  of 


25 

warm  ash  from  the  tepee-fire.  And  all  the  burnt-out  souls 
of  tamarac  and  pine  and  poplar-sticks  called  to  him  from 
it  until  the  wild  soul  turned  in  him  and  answered.  The 
God  who  made  him  vagrant  knew  why ;  knew  why  neither 
love  of  man  nor  woman  could  hold  him,  though  he  gave 
love — and  took  it — many  times ;  knew  why  he  must  guard 
the  homes  of  others  day  and  night,  with  never  a  home  of 
his  own;  knew  why  he  should  track  men  down  for  punish- 
ment with  clear  eyes  looking  to  the  day  when  he  should 
be  so  tracked  down  himself. 

He  writhed  on  his  bed  like  a  man  under  the  knife. 
But  he  could  not  speak.  He  had  wronged  Tempest  too 
deeply  for  that.  And  then,  because  it  was  impossible  that 
Tempest  should  forgive  and  come  to  him,  Tempest  spoke. 

"  Dick,  old  man,  would  you  jam  some  more  wood  in 
that  stove?  I'm  cold." 

Dick  got  up  and  went  out  for  it  in  silence.  When  he 
came  back  Tempest  was  treading  through  and  through  the 
shack  with  a  light  step  that  staggered  and  failed  and  went 
on  again  under  the  pressure  of  tight-strung  pain.  He 
smiled  at  Dick  in  the  wan  light  from  the  riding  stars. 

"  Thanks  .awfully,  Dick,"  he  said. 

Dick  filled  the  stove  and  stood,  looking  down  at  the  red 
eye  that  winked  at  him  wickedly.  He  felt  that  he  could 
neither  go  nor  stay,  and  presently  the  power  of  that  un- 
even tread  pulled  the  words  out  of  him. 

"  Did  you  marry  her  ?  "  he  said,  unmoving. 

Tempest's  walk  stopped.     Then  he  said,  slowly: 

"  Do  you  still  think  I'm  a  liar?  " 

"  I — don't  know.  But  I  will  take  your  word  now  if  you 
give  it." 

"Why?" 

The  quiet  word  brought  the  blood  drumming  to  Dick's 
temples.  He  spoke  savagely  to  the  red  winking  eye. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  guess — because  I  have  forgotten  her 
— an*  I  haven't  forgotten  you." 

"  She  married  Ted  Savile  three  months  after  you  went," 
said  Tempest  simply.  "  I  never  saw  her  again." 

"  But  she  loved  you.     And  you  loved  her." 

"  Not  so  much  as  I  did  you,  Dick." 

That  silence  lasted  long.     So  long  that  the  red  eye  shut 


26  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

and  the  yellow  tongue  below  it  ceased  to  whimper.  Then 
Tempest  spoke,  half-nervously. 

"  I  have  heard  a  good  deal  about  you,  Dick/'  he  said. 

"  Ah  ?  "  Dick's  tone  was  lightly  cynical.  "  We  are  not 
boys  any  more.  You  have  heard  that,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Why — I  can't  exactly  say  that  I've  heard  you've 
grown  a  man,"  said  Tempest;  and  then  Dick  faced  round 
on  him  with  drawn  lips  and  eyes  alight. 

"No?"  he  said,  with  a  soft  bitterness  that  stung  the 
other.  "  And  yet  I  fancy  I  did  all  a  man  could  do  be- 
fore  " 

The  little  down-slide  of  the  hand  told  the  rest.  Tem- 
pest spoke  sharply. 

"  A  man  has  never  done  all  he  can  do  till  he's  dead," 
he  said. 

Physically  Dick  knew  that.  The  men  of  his  kind 
had  proved  it  with  their  bodies  often  enough.  But  he 
had  stultified  his  beliefs,  and  he  did  not  want  them 
roused. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  fellow;  that  is  as  illogical  as  the  rest  of 
our  professions.  We  preach  the  divine  right  of  free-will, 
and  we  spend  ourselves  in  crippling  it.  We  build  reform- 
atories and  prisons  where  the  fruit  of  sin  may  rot  because 
our  convictions  are  not  strong  enough  to  allow  us  to  root 
out  the  tree.  We  palter  with  what  we  are  pleased  to  call 
our  beliefs  because  we  know  that  not  one  of  them  will 
stand  a  direct  pull.  We  recognise  that  eternally  the  dog 
will  return  to  his  vomit  and  the  prodigal  son  to  his  husks, 
and  yet  our  civilisation  gravely  asserts  that  he  would 
sooner  be  good.  He  wouldn't  sooner  be  anything  of  the 
kind.  Why  should  he?  Inasmuch  as  man  is  an  individual 
he  possesses  individual  rights.  I  recognise  that,  and  yet  I 
earn  my  living  by  enforcing  the  contrary.  The  whole  sys- 
tem of  mankind  is  a  pose — an  illogical  pose,  and  it  is  only 
the  divine  humour  of  things  which  enables  us  to  take  it 
seriously." 

"  Seriously !  My  God !  "  Tempest  turned  on  him  with 
blazing  eyes.  "You  can  see  life  as  we  of  the  police  see 
it,  and  yet  talk  like  that!  You  know  that  up  through  the 
whole  chaos  of  the  world's  history  certain  ethical  rights 
have  been  evolving,  slowly  and  painfully,  with  the  actual 


"TWO    WHO    WERE    FRIENDS"          27 

agony  of  a  soul's  birthpangs  and  the  actual  sweat  of  blood. 
They  have  evolved  because  man,  as  a  race,  cannot  do  with- 
out them.  They  have  sprung  from  the  flesh  and  blood  of 
our  progenitors  even  as  we  have ;  but  because  they  come 
from  the  loins  of  a  race  they  are  too  strong  for  us.  We 
can't  break  them  now.  We  can  only  break  ourselves  if  we 
struggle  against  them.  A  man's  duty  to  himself;  to  women; 
to  the  rest  of  men — there  is  no  imagination  left  about 
thfose  things.  The  soul-sweat  of  the  whole  of  mankind  has 
gone  to  the  clearing  of  the  position  there.  We  know  what 
we  owe  to  our  ancestors  and  to  our  posterity.  We  know 
what  Life  requires  of  us  on  the  broad  lines  of  the  physical 
and  mental  bases " 

"We,  of  the  police,  for  instance?" 

"  Well — we  hold  a  unique  position  which  brings  unique 
responsibilities.  We  are  building  directly  for  the  future 
of  a  nation,  and  there  can  never  be  anything  quite  like  us 
again.  We  do  the  work  of  an  army,  with  each  division  a 
regiment,  and  each  man  a  company — and  we're  barely  the 
strength  of  a  regiment  all  told,  Heaven  help  us.  We  are 
policing  the  last  West  of  the  world,  and  all  the  restless 
men  of  all  the  centuries  have  run  West,  until  they  are 
here,  in  the  last  West  of  all.  That  makes  it  necessary 
enough  for  us  to  define  and  cling  to  our  ethical  standards. 
In  all  probability  we  won't  have  more  than  fifty  years  in 
all  for  the  enforcing  of  them.  Then  the  Royal  North- 
West  Mounted  Police  is  done — not  wanted — wiped  off  the 
roll  of  service  for  ever.  And  it  is  for  us — we  fellows  who 
are  doing  the  cleaning  up — to  say  what  sort  of  record  the 
Force  is  going  to  leave  behind  it " 

"  Give  the  devil  his  due  too,"  suggested  Dick  amiably. 

"  Why ;  we  don't  claim  to  be  saints.  We're  something 
the  world  wants  more.  We're  men,  doing  men's  work  in 
men's  way.  We're  men  of  all  ranks  and  all  lives  and  all 
lands,  and  I  imagine  most  of  us  have  got  private  memories 
to  trouble  us  when  they  get  us  alone  on  the  trails.  But 
we  do  the  work."  He  stopped  suddenly.  And  we  don't 
talk  about  it,"  he  added.  "  But  you — you  know." 

Dick  flipped  a  light  finger  against  his  black  metal  collar- 
badge. 

"  Maintien  le  droit,"  he  said,  as  though  he  could  read 


28  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

the  legend  that  circled  it.  "  Do  you  or  any  other  man 
profess  to  say  that  you  know  what  the  right  is — a  man's 
personal,  legitimate  right,  apart  from  the  law?  " 

His  tone  brought  the  blood  stingingly  to  Tempest's  face. 

"  There  was  once  a  man  who  said,  '  Stand  fast  in  the 
faith.  Quit  you  like  men.  Be  strong.'  I  can't  call  to 
mind  any  law  of  the  present  day  which  tries  to  take  away 
our  personal,  legitimate  right  to  do  that." 

Dick  looked  at  him  in  slow  amusement. 

"  You  haven't  changed  much,"  he  said.  "  You  never 
would  remember  that  there  are  so  many  ways  for  a  man 
to  go  rotten." 

He  kicked  aside  the  pile  of  blankets  on  the  floor,  and 
went  out  to  the  night  that  stirred  with  waking  senses  to 
meet  the  dawn.  The  stars  were  pale.  The  tall  trees  were 
folded  close  in  the  hush  of  sleep.  The  tread  of  the  com- 
ing years  passed  heavily  down  the  road  of  the  river — 
years  that  would  see  the  last  fruitful  waiting-places  of 
Canada  unroll,  to  lie  in  the  hands  of — whom?  Dick 
glanced  at  the  thin  strip  of  pallor  that  was  the  tepee. 
Would  they  go  to  the  coarse  hands  of  such  as  that  round- 
eyed  baby?  Or  would  the  firm,  nervous  hands  of  sons 
born  to  such  men  as  Tempest  take  them?  And  when  he 
and  the  manner  of  law  which  he  represented  were  swept 
away  by  the  march  of  time,  would  Tempest's  gathering- 
call  be  the  word  that  knit  up  the  centuries? 

Tempest's  voice  seemed  to  sound  it  again  in  his  brain ;  a 
quiet  voice;  low,  but  great  with  inexorable,  unbreakable 
resolve. 

"  Quit  you  like  men.     Be  strong !  " 

A  bird-note  drifted  thinly  out  of  the  heavy  timber.  The 
wind  of  dawn  smote  the  pine-trees  suddenly.  They  swayed 
and  shivered,  with  their  myriad  little  needles  chattering 
into  wordless  speech  like  frightened  monkeys. 

But  Dick,  taking  the  chill  breath  on  his  forehead,  heard 
what  they  said ;  over  and  over  again,  with  chuckles  of 
laughter. 

"  There  are — so  many  ways — for  a  man — to  go  rotten." 


CHAPTER     II 

"  WE   ALL    EXERT   OUR   PULL  " 

GREY  WOLF  LANDING  ran  its  one  street  along  the  river- 
edge;  a  ragged,  half-mile  street,  patched  with  cotton- wood 
and  poplar  clumps  and  split  into  sections  by  the  vaguer 
trails  that  slid  back  from  it  into  the  forest.  One  end  of 
the  street  was  flanked  by  the  frame-built  Church  of  Eng- 
land; the  other  end  by  the  Roman  Catholic  chapel,  and  in 
between  lay  the  reason  of  Grey  Wolf — the  story  of  Fur; 
of  the  trapper;  of  all  the  big  and  little  four-footed  ani- 
mals that  die  yearly  in  the  great  North- West  in  order  that 
men  may  live. 

Above  the  small  Hudson  Bay  Store  set  sheer  to  the 
loose  plank  side-walk  the  flag  of  the  red  cross  and  the 
caribou  rampant  blew  out  from  the  staff  as  it  had  blown 
across  all  the  trackless  North-West  these  two  hundred 
and  fifty  years  past.  The  sun  drew  the  smell  of  hot 
leather  and  dust  and  groceries  out  from  its  gaping  door; 
mixed  it  with  the  smells  found  in  the  holes  and  broken 
corduroy  of  the  street,  and  let  the  idle  wind  take  it  for- 
ward ;  past  the  barracks  of  the  Royal  North-West  Mounted 
Police,  standing  back  from  their  white-washed  pickets; 
past  Revillon's  Store  and  the  little  log-shack  where  Moore 
and  Holland  did  their  trading,  and  flung  it  through  the 
windows  over  the  counter  and  bottles  of  Grange's  Hotel 
on  a  corner  lot.  Across  the  street  the  low  bank  dipped 
short  to  the  river,  where  it  breasted  big  to  the  Lake.  Be- 
yond the  river  the  sword  of  the  frost  had  touched  the  for- 
est, so  that  the  trees  were  yielding  up  their  lives  in  drip- 
ping blood-gouts  that  turned  russet  as  they  dried  and  fell, 
leaving  the  grey  limbs  gaunt  and  naked  in  their  yearly 
death. 

The  thrill  of  vigorous,  virile  life  was  on  Grey  Wolf; 
humming  with  the  soft  under-beat  of  moccasined  feet  along 
the  planking;  ripped  through  and  through  with  blasts  of 

29 


30  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

laughter,  and  rising  to  a  steady  roar  where  the  swarm  of 
nuggetty,  sturdy  men  clustered  thickest  round  Grange's 
Hotel  and  the  Stores.  Brown-faced  and  eyed,  these  men; 
black-haired,  with  a  flash  of  white  teeth,  and  gleam  of 
gaudy  handkerchief  or  Indian-work  belt  about  the  broad 
hips,  and  a  glint  of  things  that  shone  on  the  slouch  hat 
and  the  moccasins  that  were  bound  with  yellow  thongs  to 
the  ankle.  They  moved  with  the  swinging  tread  born  of 
the  snow-shoe;  they  sparred  in  noisy  horse-play,  laughing 
like  children,  shrilly  and  often,  and  in  the  Hudson  Bay 
Store  they  drove  the  two  young  Ontario  clerks  to  the  thin 
edge  of  idiocy  with  their  quick-pattered  demands  in  the 
Cree  and  Slavi  and  the  Chipewyan  French  of  the  outer 
places. 

For  they  were  half-breeds  all,  from  the  handsome  youth 
with  clear  features  and  haughty  head-carriage  down 
through  the  flat-nosed,  slant-eyed  Japanese-type  to  the 
Indian  throw-back,  with  his  black  hair,  lank  either  side 
the  raised  cheek-bones,  and  his  chin-tuft  turning  grey. 
They  were  the  men  of  the  backwoods  whose  stamping- 
grounds  lay  with  those  of  the  Indian.  They  were  the 
men  of  the  trapping-trails,  of  the  silences ;  the  strong  men 
who  pitted  their  flesh  and  spirit  against  the  white  might 
of  the  land  that  bred  them ;  who  wrested  their  right  to  live 
from  her  or  yielded  her  their  lives  at  the  call  of  the  river 
brules,  or  the  breaking  ice  or  the  thin  far  threads  of  trail 
in  the  forest. 

By  the  river-bank  lay  the  reason  which  had  brought 
them  to  Grey  Wolf;  a  long  line  of  scows  stretched,  each 
behind  each,  with  noses  up ;  broad-hulled  and  brown  and 
oily-smelling  as  whales.  An  hour  back  the  spaces  under 
the  wide,  high  seats  and  over  the  broken  decking  had  been 
bared  of  the  great  square  packages  of  pelts,  the  year's 
yield  of  Hudson  Bay  furs  from  the  North,  tracked  by  the 
dark-faced  breeds  up  three  hundred  miles  and  over  of 
rapid  and  river  and  lake.  That  sweating  journey's  end 
came  with  Grey  Wolf,  and  the  long  tin  Hudson  Bay  sheds 
were  shut  fast  on  the  warm,  close-pressed  greasy  bales 
that  waited  the  freighter's  wagons  and  the  railroad  rattle 
and  the  deep-sea  ships  beyond  all. 

At  the  window  of  the  little  dark  office  through  the  Store 


"WE   ALL   EXERT   OUR   PULL"          31 

end,  Leigh,  the  Hudson  Bay  factor,  was  busy.  For  these 
short  hundred  of  men  had  a  season's  work  behind  them, 
rated  at  something  like  thirty  dollars  a  month,  with  board 
and  moccasins  added.  Round  the  window  they  shouldered 
each  other,  good-natured,  grinning  and  awkward ;  reach- 
ing hard,  rough  hands  for  the  dirty  bills  that  made  half 
their  pay,  and  for  the  order  which  gave  the  rest  in  trade 
at  the  counters.  Then  they  surged  back  to  Hotchkiss  and 
Lampard,  swamping  their  substance  in  such  things  as  the 
light,  coarse  tobacco  which  filled  every  pipe,  and  fine- 
tooth-combs,  and  scents,  and  blue  and  red  and  purple 
satin  ribbons.  Tommy  Joseph  had  a  place  of  worship  on 
the  counter,  with  legs  swinging  and  hat  thrust  back  from 
the  broad,  grinning  face.  For  Tommy  Joseph  had  brought 
in  a  silver-fox  skin  from  the  spring  hunt  before  he  went 
North,  and  the  hundred-dollar  worth  of  it  lay  in  his  thick 
hands  now.  Beyond  the  door  and  the  reek  of  smoke  and 
the  noise  loitered  two  half-breed  girls,  tall  and  sinuous, 
with  the  swarthy  beauty  that  fades  with  such  swiftness. 
Two-young-men  laughed,  rolling  a  length  of  purple  satin 
between  his  sweating  palms  and  stuffing  it  into  his  hairy 
chest. 

"  Florestine,  she  laike  vous  retournez,  Tommy,"  he  said, 
and  Tommy  slid  off  the  counter  with  sheepish  defiance  on 
his  face. 

"  S'pose  you  donnez  moi  de  perfume — dat  stinky-stuff," 
he  said,  pointing;  and  Lampard  brought  down  a  gaudy, 
gold-topped  bottle  of  Jockey  Club. 

"  I  taike  dat/'  said  Tommy  Joseph.  "  T'anks  beau- 
coup." 

He  swept  the  change  into  his  trouser-pocket  and  the 
bottle  into  his  jumper,  and  sprang  out  into  the  tide  that 
was  setting  towards  Grange's  Hotel.  Little  Beaver  nod- 
ded slowly. 

"  Me  t'ink  Florestine  she  please  you  tell  Tommy,"  he 
said. 

"  Bien,"  said  Two-young-men,  shrugging.  "  Flores- 
tine's  man  he  not  say  t'ank,  mebbe.  You  t'ings  in  de  scow 
yet,  Louis?  " 

"  For  sure,"  said  the  young  breed,  and  shouldered  his 
way  out  and  through  the  crowded  street  to  the  river.  Here 


32  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

a  few  men  slept  in  the  smell  of  tobacco-smoke  and  bilge- 
water,  and  a  breed  with  huge  rounded  shoulders  was  shout- 
ing up  the  bank  to  a  white  boy. 

"Slicker!     Are  Ducane  come  in  yet?" 

The  white  boy  looked  down  with  eyes  that  were  start- 
lingly  blue  in  the  sunburnt  face,  and  finished  his  whistle 
through  to  the  end.  Then  he  said: 

"  Were  you  speaking  to  me?" 

The  breed's  heavy  face  went  purple.  In  law  he  classed 
as  a  white  man,  and  he  had  white  relations. 

"  What  d'yer  think?  "  he  said  savagely. 

"  I  thought  you  were,"  explained  Slicker  blandly.  "  But 
I  guess  you've  got  my  name  wrong.  It's  Warriner — 
H.  G.  Warriner." 

He  turned  and  strolled  off,  and  the  breed  came  up  the 
bank  with  red  flecking  his  little  eyes.  Slicker  heard  him 
cross  the  street  and  shout  through  the  mob  of  men  round 
the  bar-door: 

"Ducane!     Any  feller  seed  Ducane?" 

"  Slicker !  " 

The  boy's  whistle  broke  sharply.  Then  his  brown  face 
lit  up. 

"  Hillo,  Tempest,"  he  said.  "  These  fellows  will  be 
going  some  soon." 

"  Why,  certainly.  They've  been  dry  for  six  months, 
and  they've  got  to  get  rid  of  their  pay  before  they  pull 
out  again.  Seen  Ducane?" 

Slicker's  cousin  happened  to  be  married  to  Ducane. 
But  this  was  no  matter  of  pride  to  Slicker. 

"  Why  should  all  the  world  reckon  I  carry  Ducane 
around  in  my  pocket?  "  he  demanded.  "  I'm  sick  of  the 
name  of  the  brute.  Robinson  was  asking  for  him  just 
now." 

"Slicker!" 

"  Now,  what  in  the  nation "  Slicker  wheeled  and 

looked  into  the  eyes  of  Ducane's  young  wife.  "  You're 
the  third  man  to-day  who  has  asked  me  where  Ducane  is," 
he  said.  "  And  I  don't  know.  I  don't  know.  I  don't — 

"  But  I  never  asked  you." 

"  But  you  were  just  going  to.  You  can't  monkey  with 
me,  Jennifer." 


"WE    ALL   EXERT   OUR   PULL"         33 

Jennifer  laughed,  glancing  at  Tempest  where  the  light 
struck  on  him  from  the  broad-brimmed  Stetson  hat  down 
the  straight-run  body  to  the  light  spurred  boots. 

"  He  told  me  to  bring  the  rig  over  for  him  this  after- 
noon," she  explained.  "  I  left  it  in  the  Hudson  Bay  yard. 
But  if  he  is  in  there " 

She  nodded  towards  the  hotel  with  her  small,  delicate 
face  troubled,  and  Slicker  patted  her  shoulder.  Ducane 
was  J.P.  for  the  district,  but  men  had  no  occasion  to  hon- 
our him  therefore. 

"  I'll  go  hunt  him  out  for  you,  honey.  It's  no  place  for 
you.  I'll  get  him." 

He  loped  over  the  dusty  road  and  in  through  the  doors 
where  a  cluster  of  breeds  showed  black  as  bees  on  the 
comb.  Tempest  turned,  keeping  step  with  Jennifer,  past 
the  barracks  where  blew  the  flag  that  spoke  the  law  of  the 
English  to  the  solitudes,  and  round  the  little  post-office, 
into  the  Hudson  Bay  yard.  He  knew  Ducane  as  it  was 
his  business  to  know  men,  and  he  knew  small  good  of  him. 
The  man  had  that  big,  blustering  way  of  mind  and  body 
which  so  many  women  mistake  for  manliness  and  so  many 
men  do  not  mistake  for  something  else;  and  since  he  had 
brought  his  month-old  wife  to  Grey  Wolf  three  short 
weeks  ago  Ducane  had  not  improved  to  any  noticeable 
extent. 

Jennifer  patted  the  pony;  cuddled  it,  and  kissed  its 
nose,  investing  each  movement  with  that  quaint  and  deli- 
cate charm  which  made  men  forget  her  lack  of  beauty  and 
remember  her.  Then  she  laughed  up  into  Tempest's  grave 
eyes. 

"  Come  back  to  supper.  I'll  make  you  some  corn- 
cake,"  she  said. 

"  Sorry."  Tempest  did  not  smile.  "  I  fancy  I'm 
needed  here  to-night.  Too  many  trackers  about.  Why, 
no — I  don't  imagine  there'll  be  trouble.  But  I  must  be 
on  deck.  The  other  men  are  away." 

"  Your  arm  is  just  out  of  the  sling.  If  any  of 
them " 

"  They  won't.  Besides,  that's  what  I'm  here  for."  He 
laughed  now.  "  I  am  not  scared,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  of  course — a  man  never  is,"  she  said. 


34  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Tempest  had  put  Ducane  sick  with  fear  once  already. 
And  he  expected  to  do  it  again.  He  gave  place  to  Slicker 
with  relief. 

"  Honey/'  Slicker  slid  an  arm  through  Jennifer's. 
"  You'll  have  to  let  me  drive  you  home.  Ducane  will  be 
late — business,  you  know.  He  won't  be  back  to  supper, 
and  he  sent  you  his  love." 

Slicker's  imagination  was  responsible  for  this  last.  His 
boy- face  was  hard  about  the  jaw,  and,  in  the  vernacular, 
he  "  put  Tempest  wise "  with  a  flicker  of  his  left  eye-lid. 
Tempest  unhitched  the  halter  and  stowed  it  under  the  seat 
in  silence. 

"  That's  good  of  you,  Slicker,  dear,"  said  Jennifer  trem- 
ulously. "  But  poor  Harry  does  so  hate  the  hotel  meals. 
He  says  they're  horrid." 

"  I  feed  there,  and  they  haven't  killed  me  yet,"  said 
Tempest  cheerfully.  But  his  face  was  grave  again  as 
Slicker  swung  the  rig  down  by  the  river  to  the  grey  haze 
of  the  forest  where  the  sweet-scented  blanket  of  hill-fire 
smoke  clung.  Then  he  went  back  swiftly,  with  his  scarlet 
tunic  making  a  blot  among  the  dark-shawled  women  squat- 
ted on  the  side-walks,  and  the  clustered  loafing  men  in 
their  dingy  store-clothes. 

The  knot  round  the  bar-door  gaped  to  let  him  in  and 
closed  again.  Their  broken  vivid  speech  came  to  him  full 
of  the  North.  For  to  the  men  of  "  inside  "  the  North- 
West  is  the  world,  and  kingdoms  and  captains  may  fail 
and  parliments  run  to  red  ruin  unheeded  so  long  as  the 
rabbits  which  feed  the  lynx  swarm  in  their  thousands,  and 
the  running  record  between  Fort  Smith  and  anywhere  else 
is  won  by  a  man  whom  other  men  do  not  hate  over  well. 

Drifted  scraps  concerning  a  bear-trap  that  broke,  a  man 
who  made  no  fur,  little  Marguerite  who  "  vas  si  belle  von 
taime,"  and  Jack  Audoine,  the  breed  who  portaged  a  loaded 
scow  up  the  Rapids  of  the  Damned ;  rivulets  of  talk  in  the 
Indian  dialects,  with  the  whole  pock-marked  by  such  fa- 
miliar words  as  Mackenzie  River,  Fort  Resolution,  and 
Good  Hope,  were  as  familiar  to  Tempest  as  the  smell  of 
the  river-wetted  clothes  and  the  moose-skin  moccasins ;  of 
whiskey,  and  heated  men,  and  the  strong,  light,  coarse  to- 
bacco. 


"WE    ALL   EXERT   OUR   PULL"          35 

He  crossed  to  the  counter  that  ran  up  the  north  side  of 
the  big  bare  room,  and  spoke  to  the  bar-tender. 

"Have  you  seen  Mr.  Ducane  anywhere,  Jimmy?" 

"  Why — he's  up  to  the  balcony  wi'  Robison,  Sergeant. 
I  guess  they're  talkin'  some.  They've  sent  for  drinks 
twice." 

Tempest  leaned  over  the  bar. 

"Not  had  any  trouble  yet,  have  you?"  he  said  with 
dropped  voice. 

'  Not  a  mite."  Jimmy  screwed  his  eyes  up,  looking 
round  the  barn-bare  place,  where  the  dark  breeds  dozed 
half-fallen  on  the  benches,  or  smoked  stolidly  with  spit- 
toons between  their  moccasined  feet,  or  talked  in  twos  and 
threes  with  the  picturesque  hand-movements  which  often 
make  half  the  speech  of  men  who  have  lived  among  the 
Indians.  Jimmy  nodded. 

"  Pretty  as  a  Sunday-school,"  he  said.  .  "  We'll  likely 
have  a  few  muzzy  to-night.  You  wouldn't  want  to  be  hard 
on  them,  Sergeant?  They're  as  good  a  bunch  of  boys  as 
any  along  the  river." 

"  Don't  let  them  get  too  gay,  then,"  said  Tempest,  and 
went  through  the  inner  door  and  up  the  wide  uncarpeted 
staircase,  seeking  Ducane. 

Grange's  Hotel  was  the  only  one  in  Grey  Wolf.  The 
only  one  "  inside  " — which  is  to  say,  north  of  latitude  fifty- 
six — along  these  water-ways!  It  carried  the  distinction  of 
its  position,  and  of  not  much  else  just  now;  and  Tem- 
pest, turning  along  the  upper  landing,  looked  on  the  bare 
rooms  and  tumbled  beds  with  an  indifference  bred  of  fa- 
miliarity. They  were  for  the  men  of  the  trail,  these  places ; 
surveyors,  prospectors  going  through  to  the  ore-beds  of 
the  north ;  traders  on  their  home-way  to  another  five  years 
"  inside  " ;  the  men  of  the  Treaty  Party,  perhaps,  or  those 
who  took  the  long  patrol  with  the  Judge  who  Happened 
to  pass  Grey  Wolf  in  his  yearly  round.  But  they  were 
for  men  only.  Few  women  travelled  that  trail  which  men's 
feet  found  difficult  at  times,  and  those  who  passed  it  were 
chiefly  of  the  pioneer  class ;  brave-eyed,  hard-handed 
women,  trekking  with  their  home  and  their  children  and 
their  husbands  into  the  loneliness,  and  sleeping  at  night 
with  the  tent-peak  and  the  stars  above  them. 


36  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

The  ring  of  Tempest's  spurred  feet  along  the  balcony 
jerked  Ducane  out  of  his  stooping,  muttering  talk  with 
Robison.  He  flung  himself  back  in  the  creaking  chair  and 
bawled  out  the  jovial  greeting  which  Tempest  knew  to  be 
false  as  the  man  himself. 

"  Hillo,  Sergeant,  hillo.  We  were  just  talking  about 
you;  saying  you'll  want  to  keep  the  lead  sounding  to- 
night, eh?  " 

"  I  don't  expect  any  trouble,"  said  Tempest,  sitting 
down.  "  They  are  good  boys  all  right.  And  drunkenness 
is  one  of  the  honest  sins  up  here.  It  seldom  hurts  more 
than  the  drinker." 

Tone  and  words  were  casual  enough,  but  Ducane  shied 
from  them  uneasily.  Tempest  had  a  way  of  making  his 
personality  felt  where  he  went,  and  there  was  much  in 
Ducane's  life  which  would  not  bear  the  inspection  of  those 
clear  eyes.  Robison  grinned.  He  was  long-armed  and 
hairy-chested  as  an  ape,  and  he  had  all  the  ignorant,  re- 
sentful, cunning  courage  of  an  ape. 

"  Never  thought  such  as  you'd  say  as  there  was  honest 
sins,  Sergeant,"  he  remarked,  and  Tempest  smiled,  light- 
ing his  pipe. 

"  That  is  a  social  problem,  I  suppose.  But  when  it 
comes  to  a  question  of  degrees  of  evil  we  must  discrimi- 
nate. I  fancy  Ducane  will  agree  with  me  that  a  drunken 
breed  may  very  often  do  less  harm,  morally  and  socially, 
than  many  a  sober  white-man." 

Ducane's  bloated,  handsome  face  reddened.  Tempest's 
casual  sentences  had  a  way  of  dropping  straight  into  the 
well  of  a  man's  mind  to  trouble  the  waters. 

"  Oh,  I  guess  all  human  nature  is  tarred  with  the  same 
stick,  more  or  less,"  he  said.  "  We  can't  all  be  plaster 
saints,  Tempest,  or  you'd  be  out  of  a  job.  But  in  lots  of 
cases  bad  men  sin  and  worse  men  talk  about  it.  Those 
that  like  the  taste  of  it  on  the  tongue,  and  yet  are  afraid 
of  the  fires  on  their  skin.  Not  goin^,  are  you?  Robison 
was  just  telling  me  about  some  land  he'd  bought  near 
Grande  Prairie." 

Robison  was  trader  and  trapper  in  a  small  mysterious 
way  of  his  own,  and  of  late  he  had  become  farmer  also. 
He  launched  into  vernacular  technicalities  which  Tempest 


"WE   ALL   EXERT   OUR   PULL"          37 

listened  to  idly.     He  was  thinking  of  Ducane  at  present, 
and  of  Ducane's  young  wife. 

He  supped  with  Ducane  later  in  the  big  dining-place 
where  clerks  from  the  trading-offices,  a  few  half-breeds, 
and  a  score  of  men  more  passed  and  passed  again,  fed  at 
the  little  tables,  joked  with  Grange's  good-tempered  half- 
breed  wife,  and  watched,  shyly  or  boldly,  according  to 
their  kind,  the  two  white  serving  girls  who  bore  the  stamp 
of  town-life  on  them  still. 

Tempest  came  out  at  last  from  the  noise  and  light  to 
stand  in  the  pallor  of  the  dreaming  night.  Beyond  the 
street  lay  the  huge  silent  scows,  emptied  at  last  of  the 
sun-warmed,  close-pressed  furs.  Behind  were  the  men 
who  had  warped  them  up,  foot  by  foot,  by  the  long-laid, 
mysterious  water-trails  of  the  North,  and  who  would  so  soon 
seek  their  own  again  among  the  winter  woods  with  the 
light  patter  of  moccasined  feet  sounding  along  every  nerve 
and  fibre  of  the  chilling  land.  It  was  part  of  the  routine 
— like  life,  and  death,  and  sleep,  and  all  else,  and  it  meant 
as  little  to  the  men  who  did  it  as  these  things  mean  to  the 
most  of  us.  But  to  Tempest  something  of  the  wonder  of 
the  need  for  it  all  came  restlessly,  and  he  spoke  without 
turning  to  the  man  whose  lagging  footsteps  had  followed 
him  out. 

"  I'm  going  home,  Grange.  You'll  know  where  to  send 
if  I'm  wanted." 

Grange  giggled.  He  was  a  little  nervous  man  with  a 
great  love  of  his  many  children,  and  of  Moosta,  his  half- 
breed  wife. 

"  Sure,  Sergeant,  sure.  But  I  reckon  we  ain't  got  much 
hot  stuff  ter-night,  barrin'  Robison."  He  jerked  his  head 
towards  the  bar.  "  They're  on'y  singin',"  he  said.  *'  My, 
how  that  Pierre  Dupuis  kin  drive  the  chune." 

Tempest  knew  what  make  of  men  comes  of  French- 
Indian  blood.  He  knew  of  the  occasional  cast-back  to  the 
vices  of  each;  of  the  irresponsible  temper  flung  to  fury 
from  laughter  before  the  white  man  can  take  heed;  of  the 
frank,  childish  nature,  which  brings  men  to  heel  like  eager 
dogs  before  the  voice  of  authority.  He  nodded. 

"  Well,  don't  forget  to  let  me  know,"  he  said,  and  went 
down  to  the  lonely  barracks  with  the  deep-throated  swing 


38  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

of  the  song  welling  up  to  the  stars  above  him,  and  all  the 
soft,  purring  murmur  of  wooden  dwellings  settling  into 
the  hush  of  sleep  after  the  day's  heat  sounding  through 
the  clearing. 

Two  hours  later  he  found  that  Grange  had  not  forgot- 
ten, when  young  Forbes,  a  green  English  boy  in  Revil- 
lon's  Store,  burst  in  on  him  with  gasping  breath  and  start- 
ing eyes. 

"  Pile  out — quick,  Sergeant,"  he  said.  "  Ducane  and 
Robison  are  killing  each  other." 

Tempest  distanced  the  boy  back  up  the  silent  street  and 
over  the  flapping  boards  that  made  a  following  rattle  like 
musketry  in  the  hills.  He  thrust  between  the  half-breeds 
who  clustered  thick  round  the  door,  and  saw  the  two  men 
who  struggled  breast  to  breast,  knee  to  knee;  the  white 
face  livid  with  fury  and  fear,  the  dark  face  like  a  bursting 
plum. 

The  quarrel  had  been  born  in  a  flash,  and  the  end  of  it 
was  likely  to  be  as  swift;  for  Robison  had  his  knife  out 
as  Tempest  jumped  forward  with  his  lithe  finish  of  move- 
ment, and  gripped  each  man  by  the  shoulder. 

"  That's  enough,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  carried  through 
the  noise.  "  Quit !  Sharp !  " 

The  men  were  blind  and  deaf  with  the  wrath  that  held 
them.  Ducane  wrenched  away  Robison's  knife  with  a 
quick  wrist-turn,  and  then  Tempest's  face  was  thrust  in 
his  with  eyes  blazing  like  the  flash  before  the  bullet. 

"  Quit !  "  he  said  only.  But  the  threat  behind  the  word 
drove  terror  into  Ducane. 

He  fell  away,  dropping  the  knife,  and  Tempest  flung 
himself  on  Robison.  The  breed  was  too  big  and  too  heavy 
for  him ;  but  he  would  not  have  called  for  assistance  when 
he  did  if  a  sudden  demon  of  mischief  had  not  lit  the  idea 
in  his  brain.  Robison  was  a  malignant  hater,  and  there 
was  no  man  in  Grey  Wolf  would  have  cared  to  bring  him- 
self under  the  harrow  of  that  hate  undesired.  They  stood 
back,  waiting  on  Tempest's  call.  And  when  it  came  it  hit 
the  only  man  who  did  not  look  for  it. 

"  Ducane,"  shouted  Tempest.     "  Lend  a  hand  here." 

And  Ducane  it  was,  half-sobered  and  sick,  who  helped 
pinion  the  big  breed  and  guide  his  resisting  feet  down  to 


"WE   ALL   EXERT   OUR   PULL"          39 

the  barracks,  and  into  the  little  cell  with  its  grinning  grat- 
ing on  the  whitewashed  wall.  Then  Tempest  shut  out  the 
approving  crowd,  who  had  followed;  settled  his  tunic-col- 
lar where  the  top  hook  was  burst  off,  and  looked  at 
Ducane. 

"  You'd  best  sit  down  and  get  your  breath,"  he  said. 
"  I  want  to  hear  some  reasons  why  you  shouldn't  be  in 
right  alongside  Robison." 

The  heavy  red  flooded  Ducane's  skin. 

"  You  forget  who  you're  speaking  to,"  he  said. 

"  I'm  likely  to  forget  it  when  a  gentleman  brawls  with 
half-breeds  in  a  public  bar,"  said  Tempest.  "  Is  there  a 
shack  or  a  tepee  up  or  down  river  won't  have  that  news 
inside  a  week?  We  are  teaching  them  to  respect  the  white 
man  in  Grey  Wolf." 

His  level  words  bit  like  serpents'  little  tongues.  Du- 
cane came  to  his  feet  unsteadily,  taking  hold  of  his  blus- 
tering courage. 

"  You  rather  exceed  your  duty,"  he  said.  "  I  was  pre- 
venting Robison  from  assaulting  a  breed.  Good- 
night." 

Tempest  let  him  go.  He  had  more  work  to  do,  and  be- 
fore morning  the  half-dozen  cells  were  full  with  the  frank 
and  ordinary  cases  of  a  pay-night.  For  in  one  night,  or 
two,  these  cheerful  men  of  the  child-heart  had  to  "  blow  in 
the  wad "  of  a  year's  work  ere  they  faced  to  the  trail 
again.  Such  was  custom ;  and  Tempest,  knowing,  tem- 
pered the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb  in  so  far  as  he  honestly 
could. 

There  were  mild  fines  and  reproofs  in  the  little  court- 
room next  Tempest's  bedroom  in  the  morning;  and  then, 
hour  by  hour,  Grey  Wolf  slacked  her  sinews  again,  lying 
inert  until  the  next  cataclysm  of  life  should  burst  on  her. 
The  fringe  of  it  came  three  evenings  later,  when  Tempest 
rode  home,  on  the  bob-tailed  cayuse  known  to  all  his  world 
as  Gopher,  and  found  the  little  steamer  from  Lower  Land- 
ing backing  noisily  into  the  stub-end  of  wharf.  All  the 
population  were  out  to  make  remarks,  and  Tempest  added 
his  in  amaze. 

"But  how  the  deuce  did  you  cross  the  rapids,  Mackay?  " 
he  said.  "  They  coudn't  track  the  scows  further,  for  she's 


40  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

closing  so  unusually  early  this  year.  You'll  never  get 
back." 

The  brawny  Scotchman  laughed,  reaching  a  hand  over 
the  rail. 

"  Listen  till  I  tell  ye,"  he  said.  "  I  wadna  hae  daured 
bring  her,  but  Harris  swore  I  couldna.  He  swore  it  in 
company,  ye  see,  an'  I  waur  bound  tae  gie  him  the  lie." 
His  heavy  shoulders  shook  with  his  rumbling  laugh. 
"  Every  dommed  pund  o'  freight  I  tracked  over  those  rap- 
ids in  York  boats,"  he  said.  "  An'  I  go  back  by  trail.  The 
'  Northland  Flower  '  is  sleepin'  in  that  backwater  for  her 
winter  bed,  an'  I  thought  more  than  aince  she'd  be  sleepin' 
on  the  rapids.  It  waur  sure  enough  close  skatin'.  But 
the  fairies  was  wi'  us."  He  lit  his  pipe,  and  jerked  the 
match  overboard.  "  Ha'  ye  heard  tell  that  Tom  Saunders 
is  tae  pu'  out  East  for  good?"  he  said.  "What  div  ye 
mak'  o'  that,  now?  " 

"  Cold  feet,  perhaps.  Marriage,  perhaps.  But  he'll 
break  his  neck  breaking  horses  some  day  before  long." 

"  The  wildest  o'  us  slack  oop  when  we  mairry,"  re- 
marked Mackay.  "  'Cept  Ducane.  I  hear  things  about 
him.  Things  as  you  don't  hear,  ye  ken.  In  the  nature  o' 
life  ye  have  to  go  around  wi'  your  ridin'-lights  up." 

Tempest  dropped  his  whip  lightly  across  Gopher's 
crest. 

"  Come  in  and  have  a  smoke  up  this  evening,  Mackay," 
lie  said  only.  But  Mackay  winked  long  and  slowly  after 
the  cloud  of  dust. 

"  And  do  ye  think  Ducane  will  hold  any  course  straight 
enough  for  you  or  me  to  catch  him  on  it,  Sergeant  ?  "  he 
said. 

In  his  office  at  the  barracks  Tempest  opened  his  mail; 
read  a  part,  and  then  sat  still  for  long,  very  long,  until 
the  notices  and  memorandums,  and  the  few  photographs 
on  the  opposite  wall  were  a  blur,  and  Poley,  the  old  red- 
headed cook,  came  in  with  the  lamp. 

Tempest  roused  himself,  and  his  eyes  were  strange  as 
the  eyes  of  a  man  who  has  been  seeing  what  he  did  not 
think  to  see  again. 

"  Is  Baxter  in?  "  he  said.     "  Send  Mm  to  me,  then." 

There  was  dislocation  and  promotion  of  which  to  speak 


41 

to  Baxter.  Then  he  leaned  forward  and  grasped  the  man's 
hand. 

"  I  congratulate  you — Sergeant/'  he  said,  and  smiled. 
"  You  should  have  had  this  step  last  year,  for  you've  de- 
served it  long  enough."  He  looked  away.  "  Your  march- 
ing-orders come  with  it,"  he  said.  "  But  they've  managed 
a  good  leave  for  you  first." 

Baxter's  rough  hands  shook  a  little  where  he  knuckled 
them  down  on  the  table-edge,  and  his  rough  voice  was  not 
quite  steady.  He  was  Canadian  born,  even  as  his  fathers 
were,  and  he  served  his  land  simply  and  directly  with  all 
his  simple  powers. 

"  Ah !  "  he  said,  and  the  weight  of  his  soul  seemed  to 
lighten  with  the  breath.  "  I  guess  I  can  drive  that  horse, 
Sergeant.  An'  I  don't  mind  tellin'  you  now — there's  a 
little  girl — she's  waitin'  six  years — I  guess  maybe  if  they 
put  me  south  she  won't  want  to  wait  no  longer !  " 

Tempest  gave  no  answer.  Baxter  looked  at  him  sharply ; 
lost  colour;  spoke  with  suddenly  thickened  voice. 

"Where  have  they  put  me  at?  Where?  Not  Her- 
schel?" 

Then,  before  Tempest's  face,  his  own  sagged  and  grew 
grey. 

"  God,"  he  said  in  his  throat,  and  sat  down,  and  looked 
out  straight  before  him  with  still  eyes. 

Tempest  moved  his  papers  with  quiet  hands.  He  had 
come  sane  and  whole  from  the  searching  test  of  that  last, 
loneliest,  most  terrible  post  of  all  which  the  North- West 
offers  her  children:  Herschel  Island  on  the  rim  of  the  Arc- 
tic Ocean ;  where  the  sun  lies  hid,  and  almost  hid,  a  half 
year  through ;  where  the  desolation  and  the  silence  take 
hands  and  walk  together  over  the  untrod  snow,  and  the 
Northern  Lights  chase  each  other  with  curious  shapes  and 
silky  noises  across  the  great  black  cup  of  the  sky.  Tem- 
pest had  taken  his  trick  at  that  wheel,  and  had  come  from 
it  unharmed.  But  he  was  a  younger  man  than  Baxter,  and 
he  had  more  education  to  teach  him  self-control.  Besides, 
there  had  been  no  little  girl  waiting  for  him. 

"  I  can  represent  the  case  at  head-quarters  if  you  like," 
he  said.  "  But  you  know  we're  short  of  men.  We  always 
are." 


42  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Baxter  nodded;  cleared  his  throat;  cleared  it  again. 

"  Sixteen  years  I've  been  in  the  Force,"  he  said.  "  And 
never  a  word  against  me,  Sergeant." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon." 

Tempest  had  answered  tone  rather  than  words,  and 
Baxter  nodded  again. 

"  Granted,"  he  said.  Then,  "  Over  two  years,  isn't 
it?" 

"  Officially  two.  Nearer  three,  allowing  for  travel  and 
change  of  seasons." 

"I've  got  till  ice  goes  out  in  spring,"  said  Baxter,  and 
his  eyes  lit  with  longing.  "  I  could  marry  her  right  now — 
an'  leave  her  again.  I  couldn't  take  a  woman  up  there?  " 

"  No,"  said  Tempest.  "  You  couldn't  take  a  woman  up 
there." 

Baxter's  knotty  hands  stirred  and  grew  still  again.  He 
looked  out  at  the  blur  beyond  the  windows  where  an  un- 
seen child  was  laughing.  Tempest's  sympathy  showed  in 
his  silence,  and  Baxter  stood  up  at  last. 

"  Thank  you,  Sergeant,"  he  said;  halted,  and  added, 
grim  and  slow:  "  I  guess  I  can't  marry  her.  Herschel 
an'  the  North  have  done  up  better  men  than  me." 

"  You're  judged  fit,  or  they  wouldn't  send  you.  There 
have  been  no  excesses  in  your  life  for  you  to  fret  over, 
Baxter.  You'll  get  along  well.  There  are  two  more  in 
the  detachment,  you  know,  and  it  is  seldom  that  some  of 
the  whalers  don't  winter  there." 

Baxter  looked  at  him. 

"As  man  to  man?"  he  said.  "It  gets  hold  of  one? 
That  having  dark  at  daylight,  as  you  may  say — and  see- 
ing nothing  half  the  time  but  those  Esquimaux  with  their 
long  tails  trailin' — and  letters  once  a  year.  And  the 
knowing,  maybe  for  months  at  a  time,  that  there's  nothin' 
between  you  and  your  God — nothing  white,  but  the  two- 
three  men  with  you  and  the  snow.  It  gets  hold  of  one? 
As  man  to  man,  Sergeant?  " 

"  It  does,"  said  Tempest  quietly.  "  And  yet  you  can 
stand  it,  Baxter." 

"If  you  say  so,  Sergeant.  You've  got  all  your  senses, 
right  enough.  But — I  don't  know.  I  don't  know." 

"  You  do  know,"  said  Tempest,  and  his  voice  rang  sud- 


"WE   ALL   EXERT   OUR   PULL"          48 

denly.  "  There  won't  be  more  asked  of  you  than  a  man 
can  stand.  And  you  are  a  man." 

"  I  should  hope  so.  Well  " — he  shook  himself.  "  Let 
her  roll  into  it,"  he  said.  "  When  do  I  go  out?  " 

'"  On  the  York  boats — Barney's  gang,  to-morrow.  The 
new  man  is  riding  up  now." 

"  Quick  work.  But,  of  course — with  the  ice  coming  an' 
all.  Who's  the  new  man,  Sergeant?  Been  this  way  be- 
fore? " 

"  He  has  been  all  over.  But  he  comes  from  Macleod. 
He  has  lately  been  promoted  Corporal,  and  his  name," 
Tempest's  voice  altered  slightly — "  his  name  is  Heriot ; 
R.  L.  Heriot." 

"  That'll  be  Dick  Heriot,  I  guess.  Can  ride  most 
things  that  have  two  sides  to  'em,  folk  say.  I've  heard  o' 
him." 

Tempest  had  heard  of  him  also,  although  it  was  not 
necessary  to  say  so.  For  two  days  he  hid  the  trouble  in 
his  eyes;  but  when  he  met  Dick  the  shadow  was  lifted. 

"  What  are  we  going  to  do  ?  "  he  said.  "  We  have  al- 
ways run  together  before.  Are  you  strong  enough  to  obey 
me,  Dick  ?  " 

"  If  you're  strong  enough  to  make  me!  "  said  Dick,  and 
laughed. 

"  By ,  I'll  make  you,"  said  Tempest.  "  But  it's  a 

poor  look-out  for  the  Force  if  I've  got  to  make  you,  old 
man." 

Dick  moved  restlessly.  The  pull  of  this  man  was  on 
him  again,  and  he  knew  that  he  would  resist  more  than  he 
gave  to  it  all  the  days  of  his  life.  For  the  good  which  he 
could  see  and  reverence  was  greater  than  the  good  which 
he  wanted  to  do. 

"  I  guess  you'll  whittle  me  into  my  hole,"  he  said.  "  But 
I'm  hard  wood.  I'll  break  your  knives." 

"  I  don't  want  to  whittle  you,"  said  Tempest,  staring 
out  with  his  head  between  his  hands.  "  Aren't  you  man 
enough  to  do  it  for  yourself?  " 

Dick  laughed  and  walked  to  the  window. 

"  Lord,  yes,"  he  said.  "  I've  whittled  myself  slab-sided. 
I've  whittled  my  soul  out  and  put  a  whiskey-peg  in  its 
place.  I've  loaned  my  youth  where  I  didn't  ought,  and 


44  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

I've  run  up  accounts  which  I  don't  mean  to  settle.  But 
you'll  make  me  pay  with  usury,  you  old  fox.  I  know  you, 
Tempest." 

"  I  hope  so/'  said  Tempest.  Then  his  voice  changed. 
"'But  I  believe  that  you're  a  better  man  than  you  pretend 
to  be,"  he  said. 

"  It's  not  his  beliefs  which  trouble  a  man,"  said  Dick. 
"  It  is  the  making  folk  believe  that  he  believes  in  his  be- 
liefs." He  wheeled  suddenly,  and  faced  Tempest.  "  The 
clinkers  that  we  rake  out  of  the  engine-fire  can't  burn 
again,"  he  said.  "  I've  wanted  to  be  a  clinker  more  times 
than  once.  On  my  soul,  Tempest,  I  don't  imagine  a  thing 
could  ever  get  hold  of  you  as  it  gets  hold  of  me." 

Tempest  still  stared  at  the  blurr  of  window-pane 
through  which  Baxter  had  looked  on  his  future. 

"  God  knows  I  don't  want  to  judge  any  man,"  he  said. 
"  But  this  would  be  a  simpler  world  if  each  were  respon- 
sible for  himself  only." 

Dick  whistled  softly  between  shut  teeth. 

"  According  to  the  tenets  of  common-sense  we  are,"  he 
said.  "  But  what  a  rotten  thing  is  common-sense.  A  man 
doesn't  rule  himself  by  it  half  his  days.  And  when  he 
does  he  generally  gets  up  to  the  neck.  You  leave  me  alone 
all  you  can,  Tempest.  A  man  can  shoulder  the  rest  of  the 
world — but  he  can't  shoulder  his  friend.  His  heart  gets 
in  the  way  there." 

Tempest  left  the  matter  at  that,  and  went  over  in  the 
next  afternoon  to  see  Jennifer.  He  had  developed  a  habit 
of  going  to  see  Jennifer  when  his  work  called  him  in  that 
direction,  and  this  day  he  found  Slicker  on  the  table  in 
the  little  sitting-room  eating  the  last  half-dried  saskatoons 
from  the  hill  out  of  a  shining  tin  pan.  Jennifer  was  in  the 
window-seat  with  that  cheerful  busyness  of  work  about 
her  which  reminded  Tempest  of  long  ago  home-days.  The 
red  of  a  late  fall  sunset  was  behind  her,  sharply  distinct 
on  lake  and  sky,  on  hills  and  marshy  foreground ;  and  the 
red  of  it  was  in  the  rough  ends  of  her  cloudy  hair  which 
glowed  until  they  called  a  witticism  from  Slicker. 

Jennifer  was  unabashed.  She  bit  off  an  end  of  thead 
with  her  sharp  little  teeth. 

"  I  suppose  you  can't  help  being  clever  any  more  than 


«WE   ALL  EXERT   OUR   PULL"         4$ 

Mr.  Tempest  can  help  being  good,"  she  said.  "  It  must 
be  an  awful  handicap  to  you  both." 

"  It  is,"  admitted  Tempest  gravely.  "  Especially  when 
you're  the  only  one  in  the  bunch." 

Slicker  chuckled  with  his  mouth  full. 

"  That's  one  on  you,  honey,"  he  said.  "  But  we  can't 
help  it.  Some  are  born  with  cold  feet,  some  get  cold  feet, 
and  some  have  cold  feet  thrust  u " 

"  Slicker,  if  you  bring  your  vulgar  jokes  over  here,  I'll 
lock  you  up.  I  know  you're  in  a  position  to  tell  us  why 
both  acquirements  are  a  handicap,  Mrs.  Ducane,  but " 

"  Tempest  considers  each  of  his  good  deeds  as  an  asset 
placed  in  heavenly  securities  to  act  as  retainers  when  the 
time  comes  to  need  an  advocate,"  explained  Slicker.  "  You 
won't  convince  him,  Jennifer." 

"  You  see,  Slicker  has  tried,"  said  Jennifer.  "  That  is 
what  makes  him  so  contemptuous.  We  are  never  really 
contemptuous  of  things  till  we  find  out  that  we  can't  do 
them.  Slicker  tried  for  a  month.  That  was  down  East, 
when  he  thought  of  going  to  China  for  a  missionary.  He 
was  so  affected.  I  spilt  boiling  water  into  both  his  shoes 
one  day — with  his  feet  in  them,  and  he  only  said,  '  Oh, 
dear ! '  Now,  he  should  have  said  '  damn,'  shouldn't  he  ? 
All  white  men  say  '  damn.'  Kipling  calls  it  '  the  war- 
drum  of  the  English  round  the  world.' " 

"  I — I  think  he  expressed  it  a  little  differently,"  sug- 
gested Tempest.  "  But  no  doubt  he  meant  much  the  same 
thing." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Jennifer. 

She  drew  a  ragged  sock  over  her  hand ;  held  it  up  to  the 
light,  and  cocked  her  head  at  it. 

"  When  Providence  made  me  your  cousin,  Slicker,"  she 
said,  "  it  neglected  to  tell  me  what  you  were  going  to  do 
with  your  clothes.  Otherwise  I  might  have  declined  the 
honour.  This  is  the  seventh  pair  of  holes  you  have  brought 
me  to  darn  socks  on  to  in  one  week." 

"  But  you  look  so  sweet  when  you're  doing  it,  honey." 
Slicker  tipped  the  tin  for  the  last  of  the  berries.  "  You 
make  a  regular  little  home-bird  twittering  in  your  pretty 
nest — and  I  never  reckoned  there'd  be  anything  but  a  bon- 
fire made  out  of  this  old  place  in  Ducane's  time." 


46  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Jennifer  laughed  and  flushed  with  the  consciousness  of 
her  young  wifehood,  and  again  Tempest's  face  was 
troubled  as  he  looked  at  her.  As  yet  there  was  no  flaw  in 
the  warp  and  woof  that  Life  was  spinning  her.  But  it 
must  come  soon.  It  could  not  fail  to  come,  and  the  snarl 
might  be  such  that  no  patient  fingers  and  no  brave  eyes 
that  kept  the  tears  back  would  unravel.  It  could  not  fail 
to  come.  He  knew  Ducane  too  well  for  that,  and  he  knew 
Life  too  well. 

The  dread  of  grim  tragedy  broke  before  the  indefinable 
sensation  of  something  tense  in  the  air.  He  turned  from 
the  window  to  see  Slicker  with  a  saskatoon  between  thumb 
and  finger,  regarding  Jennifer  very  much  as  he  might  have 
regarded  a  chick  which  had  just  emerged  from  a  duck's 
egg.  The  light  from  without  struck  one  side  of  Jennifer's 
small  face  and  the  blurr  of  copper  hair  as  she  leant  for- 
ward, speaking  with  that  soft,  quick  voice  which  was  char- 
acteristic of  her. 

"  You  don't  know!  How  should  a  boy  like  you  know 
what  it  means  to  lie  awake  at  night  and  feel  that  you  have 
got  into  the  heart  of  things  at  last — the  real  core — right 
back  to  the  beginning  where  men  stood  with  bare  feet  on 
the  bare  earth,  as  it  were " 

Slicker  removed  his  eyes  to  his  sock. 

"  I've  stood  with  bare  feet '  he  began.  Then  he 

looked  at  Tempest.  "  Isn't  she  the  most  surprising  thing 
that  ever  happened?  "  he  said. 

Jennifer  swung  round.  Her  eyes  and  her  hair  glowed 
in  the  light. 

"  Out  here  men  do  things,"  she  cried.  "  It  is  the  land 
of  romance  and  the  real  picturesque.  Here  one  can  be- 
lieve— and  do.  It's  like  coming  out  of  a  novel  and  getting 
into  history.  It  brings  out  all  that  is  brave  and  good  and 
noble  in  men  and  women.  Look  at  those  women  at  the 
English  Mission,  making  Christians  of  the  little  half- 
breed  children!  Look  at  the  Mounted  Police  scouring  the 
land  with  their  old  khaki  uniforms,  year  in  and  year  out, 
to  enforce  the  law!  Look  at  the  half-breeds  submitting 
themselves  to  that  awful  labour  of  tracking,  season  by  sea- 
son. Look  at  men  such  as  my  Harry,  battling  for  his  home 


"WE    ALL   EXERT   OUR   PULL"          47 

in  the  wilderness,  just  so  that  he  can  make  some  woman 
happy " 

Slicker  swallowed  his  berry  with  the  air  of  one  who 
needed  some  support. 

"  Maybe  a  girl  who  can  see  her  back-hair  in  a  hand- 
glass without  getting  lock-jaw  isn't  fitted  by  nature  to  look 
at  life  straight,"  he  said.  "  You  get  Miss  Chubb  down  at 
the  Mission  to  tell  you  if  she  hasn't  reason  to  consider 
that  she's  done  her  possible  by  the  race  if  she  can  teach 
them  to  put  their  clothes  on  to  the  right  parts  of  them- 
selves and  to  blow  their  noses.  And  you  ask  Tempest 
right  now  how  long  it  would  be  before  an  M.P.  got  ac- 
quainted with  the  inside  of  his  coffin  if  he  attempted  to 
scour  the  land  with  an  old  uniform  or  anything  else  with- 
out letting  up  for  meals.  And  the  breeds  wouldn't  take 
another  job  if  you  went  on  your  knees  to  'em.  They  like 
it.  And " 

Tempest  moved  nervously.  Would  Slicker's  tongue 
carry  him  into  dangerous  latitudes?  But  Jennifer's  rare 
temper  was  waking. 

"  Boys  think  it  so  clever  to  make  fun  of  everything/'  she 
said.  "  They  haven't  imagination  enough  to  see  the  true, 
wonderful  beauty  of  life.  I  can  see  a  little — just  a  little. 
And  I'm  going  to  tell  the  world.  I'm  going  to  write  some 
articles  for  a  Toronto  paper.  I  began  last  night." 

"  Do.  I  reckon  it  would  be  well  to  get  all  that  stuff  out 
of  your  system  right  away.  And  then  put  'em  in  the  stove. 
But  be  careful,  for  I  guess  there  will  be  plenty  hot  air  in 
'em  to  burst  the  pipes." 

Jennifer  whipped  round  on  him  like  a  kitten  about  to 
spring. 

"  You — you — you  animal !  "  she  cried.  "  Come  off  my 
table  this  instant !  Stop  eating  my  berries.  Don't  sit 
there  with  your  hair  all  over  your  head,  staring  like  that! 
And  don't  you  dare  put  your  feet  on  my  carpet.  They're 
mud  up  to  the  elbows !  " 

"  Sakes ! "  said  Slicker,  bewildered  into  alarm  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life.  "  I  can't  jump  right  out  of  here  in 
once." 

For  an  instant  more  Jennifer's  temper  possessed  her. 


48  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

Then  she  dropped  on  the  window-seat  and  laughed  with 
the  two  men  until  her  eyes  ran  over. 

"  You're  not  fit  to  live,  Slicker,"  she  said.  "  Go  away. 
Go  away  and  die.  But  don't  do  it  on  the  door  step.  I 
mean  it.  Indeed  I  do !  You  haven't  left  me  one  berry  for 
supper,  and  you've  made  me  lose  my  temper,  and  you're 
in  disgrace.  Good-bye.  You  can  come  back  for  your 
socks  to-morrow.  And — shut  the  door." 

They  heard  his  serene  whistle  as  he  strolled  down  the 
mud-track  to  the  Lake.  Then  Jennifer  glanced  up  at 
Tempest. 

"  You'll  stay  to  supper,  won't  you  ?  "  she  said.  "  Harry 
will  surely  be  in  directly. 

"  Thanks,"  said  Tempest  absently.  "  I  shall  be  very 
pleased." 

He  watched  her  as  she  drew  the  wool  through  Slicker's 
socks,  and  that  skeleton  behind  Ducane's  door  seemed  to 
take  shape  and  move  about  her.  How  long  would  this  lit- 
tle ardent  girl  believe  in  the  "  true  wonderful  beauty  of 
Life  ?  "  Or  was  she  perhaps  filled  with  the  great  heart 
and  the  inner  wisdom  which  can  hold  to  it  and  know  it 
through  all  pains?  Jennifer  glanced  at  him  again. 

"  You  don't  believe  what  Slicker  says,  do  you  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  Why — every  sweeping  statement  is  true  and  untrue. 
Slicker  has  heard  so  much  of  what  he  calls  hot  air  talked 
about  us  and  every  other  phase  of  western  life  that  he 
quite  naturally  goes  to  the  other  extreme.  I  imagine  you're 
just  men  and  women  out  here,  you  know — the  same  as  in 
most  places.  But  we're  fighting  out  these  ordinary  passions 
and  joys  and  agonies  under  unusually  primeval  conditions, 
and — and  I  want  you  to  make  allowances  for  that."  He 
hesitated,  wondering  if  he  dared  give  a  warning  plain 
enough  for  her  to  take.  "  Men  get  rougher.  They  slough 
off  a  lot  of  conventionalities,  and — there's  quite  a  good 
deal  of  the  brute  in  human  nature.  They  do  ugly  things, 
maybe,  because  they  haven't  got  the  perspective  to  know 
how  ugly  they  are." 

"  I  haven't  seen  any  of  the  ugly  things,"  said  Jennifer 
softly. 

Tempest  looked  out  on  the  placid  lake  where  a  couple 


"WE   ALL   EXERT   OUR   PULL"          49 

of  late  ducks  cut  sharply  and  black  between  sedge  and 
sky. 

"  You  will,"  he  said.  "  You  were  right  when  you  said 
that  Life  was  not  a  novel.  It  is  history,  and  it  needs  each 
one  of  us  to  make  this  history  of  the  West.  You  have  got 
to  do  your  share.  And  you  are  not  going  to  find  it  easy." 

Jennifer's  hands  had  fallen  still  and  loosely  in  her  lap. 
She  never  fidgeted. 

"  You  make  me  feel  as  if  I  was  on  the  edge  of  some- 
thing," she  said.  "  Of  something  big  and  terrible  that 
you  know  about  and  I  don't.  Is  that — Life?  I  couldn't 
do  anything  much,  you  know.  I  should  certainly  fail  if  I 
tried." 

"  Why — to  fail  is  a  bad  thing,"  said  Tempest  slowly. 
"  But  to  be  afraid  to  dare  failure  is  much  worse.  I  guess 
you  wouldn't  be  afraid  to  dare." 

"  But  this  is  a  man's  life — for  men.  I  can't  do  any- 
thing in  it — anything  that  makes  a  difference." 

"  Don't  you  know  that  at  the  moment  when  a  star  splits 
apart  each  half  instantly  exerts  its  pull  on  every  other 
atom  near  enough  to  it?  Instantly,  and — eternally.  There 
is  no  getting  away  from  that.  There  is  no  burking  it.  We 
all  exert  our  pull — through  every  moment  of  our  lives. 
You  do.  I  do." 

His  voice  rang  strong  and  vital  through  the  dusk,  telling 
her  that  he  recognised  the  power  of  his  own  pull  and  was 
glad  of  it.  She  shivered,  looking  out  where  the  warm 
lights  of  Grey  Wolf  began  to  blink  across  the  Lake. 

"  I  think  you  frighten  me  when  you  talk  like  that,"  she 
said.  "  You  make  me  want  to  be  a  little  quiet  soul,  hidden 
away  in  a  corner  behind  a  cloud,  and  not  mattering  to 
anybody.  I — I  don't  think  I  care  to  have  an  influence. 
Especially  when  I  don't  quite  know  what  it  is." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Tempest.  He  came  over  and 
knelt  a  knee  on  the  window-seat  in  penitence.  "  I  likely 
say  what  I  feel  too  plainly  at  times.  And  that  is  dan- 
gerous in  a  man  who  serves  others.  But  I  can  tell  you 
just  a  little  of  what  your  influence  may  be.  We  haven't 
seen  dull  silk  portieres,  and  just  those  kind  of  pictures 
and  little  bits  of  old  statuary  up  this  way  before.  Other 
women  keep  their  houses  nice  and  clean.  But  this  room — 


50  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

well,  I  imagine  you  are  going  to  be  a  civilising  influence, 
Mrs.  Ducane." 

Jennifer  laughed  and  pouted. 

"  You  don't  think  me  capable  of  the  big  heroics/'  she 
said.  "  Civilisation  sounds  so — so  paltry  up  here." 

"  God  forbid !  It's  the  one  rag  we  have  to  cover  our 
nakedness  until  we're  fit  to  grow  angel's  feathers.  Don't 
ever  strip  it  off.  And  don't  let  any  man  you  come  in  con- 
tact with  strip  it  off  in  your  presence.  That  is  going  to 
be  one  of  your  great  responsibilities." 

"  I — I  wonder  if  I  want  it,"  said  Jennifer. 

"  You  needn't  be  afraid  of  it,"  said  Tempest  gently. 
"  But  the  most  ignorant  of  us  daily  take  on  ourselves  re- 
sponsibilities that  the  gods  would  jib  at.  We  do  it  because 
we  are  ignorant,  of  course.  And  that  is  naturally  the  very 
last  reason  we  give  for  our  mistakes — for  it  is  the  only 
one  that  is  going  to  save  us."  He  laughed,  and  stood  up. 
"  I  have  been  uncivilised  enough  to  give  you  advice,"  he 
said.  "  But  you've  no  time  to  get  back  on  me  now.  There's 
Ducane." 

"Where?  Where?  I  don't  see "  Then,  as  Tem- 
pest flung  up  the  window,  the  swift  running  beat  of  an 
Indian  cayuse  came  to  her  along  the  frozen  track  toward 
the  house.  She  flashed  round  at  Tempest  with  sudden 
crisp  life  in  each  inch  of  her. 

"  It  is ;  it  is,"  she  cried.  "  But  I  never  heard — oh, 
Harry !  " 

Ducane  swung  round  the  horse-corner;  dropped  from 
the  high-cantled  saddle,  and  thrust  his  head  through  the 
window. 

"  Hallo,  Jenny,"  he  said,  and  slid  a  careless  arm  round 
her  shoulders.  "That  you,  Sergeant?  Well,  you're 
wanted  down  at  the  Portage  right  away.  Some  white  fool 
— Englishman  named  Lucas — smashed  his  mate's  head  in. 
Oh,  he's  got  it,  sure  enough.  Best  pile  after  him,  I  guess. 
Why — what's  to  pay,  Jenny?  It  was  one  of  your  sex  was 
responsible,  I'll  bet." 

Jennifer  shivered  in  the  grasp  of  his  big  arm. 

"  You — you  say  it  as  if  it  was  nothing,"  she  whispered. 

"  Lucas  won't  find  it  nothing  once  the  Sergeant  has  him 
by  the  neck,  I  promise  you.  Coming  out  this  way,  Tem- 
pest? Well — stand  aside,  Jenny." 


"WE   ALL   EXERT   OUR   PULL"          51 

Tempest  slid  a  leg  out  and  followed  it  where  the  pony 
stood  four-square  with  drooped  head  and  smoking  flanks. 

"  It  saves  time/'  he  said.  "  Come  down  to  the  canoe 
with  me,  Ducane.*  I  want  some  particulars  of  this."  He 
smiled,  saluting  Jennifer.  "  Don't  think  of  it  again,"  he 
said.  "  I  apologise — for  Lucas." 

Jennifer  watched  the  two  swing  down  the  narrow  trail, 
and  she  pressed  her  hands  together  over  her  breast.  One 
of  the  ugly  things  had  come  suddenly,  bald  and  hideous. 
And  it  was  her  husband  who  had  brought  it,  uncaring. 
She  shut  her  little  sharp  teeth  down  on  her  lip  in  swift 
anger  and  disgust.  Then  Tempests's  voice  came  to  her 
memory.  "  I  want  you  to  make  allowances — there's  a 
good  deal  of  the  brute  in  human  nature." 

What  was  there  in  Ducane?  She  knew  that  she  did  not 
know.  He  had  come  into  her  life  like  a  wild,  vivid  storm ; 
bearing  her  out  with  the  force  of  him  into  a  strange  world 
of  hot  kisses  that  half-frightened  her  and  boisterous  words 
that  blew  away  all  her  shy  excuses,  until  there  was  a  new 
plain  ring  on  her  finger,  and  his  thick,  gripping  arm 
about  her  before  she  understood  if  this  great  thing  which 
had  come  on  her  was  love  in  very  truth.  Her  senses  were 
whirling  still  when  he  brought  her  home  and  kissed  her  on 
the  lips  as  he  lifted  her  out  of  the  rig. 

"  Our  home,  Jenny,"  he  said.  "  And  not  fit  for  you, 

little  girl.  But,  by  ,  I'll  make  it  fit  now  I've  got 

reason." 

His  very  oath  had  excited  her,  thrilled  her.  She  had 
not  heard  men  speak  so  before,  and  it  was  surely  part  of 
this  great  virile  world  out  of  which  he  had  come  to  her 
with  his  loud  voice  and  his  manner  that  rushed  all  before 
it.  Now,  even  as  the  canoe  shot  off  from  the  bank  and 
Ducane  shouted  words  after  it,  there  swept  over  her,  hor- 
ribly, vividly,  the  contrast  between  her  husband  and  Tem- 
pest. Harry  had  coarse  words  and  coarse  thoughts  that 
he  no  longer  troubled  to  hide  from  her.  Harry  was — he 
was  one  who  might  do  ugly  things ;  one  for  whom  she  must 
make  allowances.  Make  allowances  for  him !  For  Harry ! 
"With  a  gasp  of  sudden  blinding  agony  she  turned  and 
fled  through  the  dark  house  to  the  hithermost  end  of  it, 
hearing  Ducane  calling  after  her: 

"Jenny!     Hi,  Jenny!     I  want  you." 


CHAPTER    III 

"  I    KNOW    WHAT    I'M    AT  " 

"  PAYATUK/'  said   Dick.     "  Go   carefully.     Tell  him   we 
don't  want  to  scare  him,  Phillipe." 

"  Him  t'ink  you  mebbe  in  big  hurry,"  interpreted  the 
breed. 

"  That  is  kind  of  him.  Explain  that  I  earn  my  dollar- 
ten  a  day  by  waiting  until  he's  ready  to  speak.  But  inti- 
mate that  though  he's  my  totam  he's  got  to  yakwa  what 
he  says,  all  the  same." 

Phillipe  interpreted  in  low  rapid  gutturals.  And  in  the 
little  barrack-room  where  Tempest  held  his  courts  Kick- 
ing Horse,  pure-bred  Cree  Indian,  stood  motionless  and 
hunched  in  his  ill-fitting  store  clothes.  But  the  eyes  in 
the  copper-dark  face  overhung  by  the  matted  hair  were 
alive  enough  for  a  regiment  of  men. 

In  perspective  beyond  the  glass  door  showed  more  In- 
dians, huddled  in  their  fur  coats  and  caps.  For  winter 
had  descended  suddenly  upon  Grey  Wolf,  thrusting  the 
thermometer  below  zero  with  decision,  and  pasting  all  the 
land  with  a  thick  white  layer  that  shone  in  the  sun  like  a 
wedding-cake  baked  for  a  god. 

At  the  bar  of  inquiry  within  Kicking  Horse  moved  sol- 
emnly; bringing  from  under  his  coat  the  old  fluttering 
hands  where  the  brown  veins  and  muscles  ran  corded  like 
fibres  on  rotted  leaves.  He  began  to  speak;  using  his 
tongue  little,  but  weaving  his  story  on  the  picturesque 
sign-language  which  Phillipe  interpreted  as  one  may  in- 
terpret a  telegraph-ribbon  unrolling. 

"  Him  and  Pasasun  mates  many  suns  since.  Dey  go 
togedder  all  taime.  Den  Pasasun  marry — lif  on  Reserve 
here.  Kicking  Horse  him  shoot  an'  fish — go  all  over.  Von 
day  him  see  Pasasun." 

"When  was  that?" 

52 


"I   KNOW    WHAT   I'M   AT'3  53 

Phillipe  studied  the  swaying  hand-movements. 

"  Two  moons  and  six  suns  past.  Pasasun  ver'  happy 
dat  day.  Him  haf  much  trink — good  trink — make  him 

walk  so "     Phillipe's  hands  suggested  the  progress  of 

a  snake-fence.     "  But  it  no  mak'  him  seeck  dat  taime." 

Seven  hours  before  Dick  had  found  Pasasun  drunk  in 
Robison's  shack.  And,  because  to  give  drink  to  an  Indian 
is  a  punishable  offence  throughout  all  the  North-West, 
the  interrogation  of  other  Indians  had  naturally  followed, 
Pasasun  himself  being  in  a  state  of  sublime  uncertainty 
regarding  essentials. 

"Why  didn't  it  make  him  sick  that  time?"  asked  Dick. 

"  It  was  tres  bon  w'iskey  dat  w'ite  man  gif  him " 

Dick  half-suppressed  the  exclamation.  But  it  was  too 
late.  Kicking  Horse  realised  that  he  was  presenting  in- 
formation of  import  to  this  man  in  the  brown  brass-but- 
toned tunic  who  sat  with  unknown  instruments  of  terror 
about  him  in  little  black  bottles  and  small  pointed  black 
sticks.  His  conscience  was  clear,  but  he  did  not  know 
what  those  black  things  and  that  spear-eyed  man  might 
make  of  it.  And  he  did  know  that  there  was  an  empty 
cell  beside  Pasasun's.  His  hands  fluttered  to  cover  again. 

"  Wah,  wah,"  he  said  heavily,  and  stood  silent. 

Dick  smothered  a  groan.  His  knowledge  of  men  told 
him  that  this  stream  had  run  dry  for  all  time.  But  be- 
cause the  fragments  of  information  gleaned  here  and  there 
required  this  link  badly  he  drove  on  with  his  questions. 

"What  was  the  name  of  the  white  man?  " 

The  answer  came  as  he  had  expected. 

"  Kicking  Horse  him  not  know." 

"Does  he  live  in  Grey  Wolf?" 

"  Him  not  know,  Corp'ral." 

"Was  it  the  same  man  give  Pasasun  drink  last  night?  " 

"  Kicking  Horse  not  know." 

"  Does  he  know  anything  more,  Phillipe  ?  " 

Phillipe  questioned. 

"  Not  von  dam  t'ing."  He  explored  further  into  the 
Indian's  consciousness.  "  Him  not  know  w'at  him  tell  you 
pefore,  Corp'ral." 

Dick  pushed  his  chair  back. 

"He  can  go,"  he  said.     Then,  watching  Kicking  Horse 


54  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

shuffle  out,  he  added:  "  I  would  give  much  to  be  able  to  lie 
with  your  serenity,  my  friend." 

He  pulled  open  a  drawer  in  the  table,  took  out  a  sheaf 
of  papers,  and  fell  to  work  with  his  forehead  knotted  by 
thought.  Sudden  suspicion  had  come  to  him  that  this 
matter  was  an  illumination  on  something  which  had  been 
distracting  Grey  Wolf  lately,  and  he  hunted  what  he 
wanted  through  official  pamphlets  and  reports  with  his 
eyes  growing  more  eager  as  he  neared  his  goal.  His  nat- 
ural suspicions  of  this  kind  helped  him  here,  and  also  his 
personal  knowledge  of  sorts  of  dishonesty  which  would 
never  occur  to  Tempest.  By  way  of  his  great  intuition  and 
powers  of  deduction  he  wound  a  tortuous  course  through 
the  papers  until  his  mind  fastened  at  last  with  a  leap  on 
the  clue  he  sought  for.  He  looked  up  with  his  eyes  nar- 
rowed and  dark  and  rather  puzzled.  Then  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders  with  a  slight  laugh. 

"  Why,  of  course ;  who  is  better  fitted  to  deceive  law 
and  justice  than  the  man  who  holds  the  scales,"  he  said 
"  But  I  fancy — I  really  fancy  that  we  have  got  it  in  for 
you  this  time,  Mr.  Ducane." 

He  picked  up  the  notes  on  Kicking  Horse's  evidence, 
and  the  paper  which  had  led  to  his  conclusion;  took  them 
into  Tempest's  office,  and  stood  attentive  while  Tempest 
read  the  little  information  vouchsafed  by  the  Indian.  Dick 
watched  him  idly.  Tempest  had  developed  considerably 
since  the  old  days.  He  was  a  fine-looking  fellow,  with 
that  broad,  untanned  forehead  where  the  bright  hair  lifted 
vigorously,  and  those  lit,  introspective  eyes  of  the  dreamer, 
and  the  firm  jaw  of  the  man  who  can  do.  It  was  the  face 
of  one  who  was  not  likely  to  run  to  wreck  on  his  passions 
as  Dick  had  done  himself. 

Tempest  looked  up  at  last,  laying  aside  the  official  tone. 

"  I  can't  think  who  the  white  man  is  likely  to  be,"  he 
said. 

"  Can't  you  ?  "  There  was  an  edge  of  mockery  in  Dick's 
tone.  "  It  is  Ducane." 

"Ducane!  What  are  you  thinking  of?  He  is  District 
J.P.  He  is  a  gentleman." 

"  Those  two  facts  helped  my  deductions  immenesly.  It 
is  also  Ducane  who,  with  Robison's  assistance,  is  doing 


"I    KNOW    WHAT    I'M    AT'  55 

the  dirty  work  for  that  bogus  company  which  is  selling 
lots  that  exist  on  paper  only  and  scrip-land  which  on  ex- 
amination turns  out  to  be  Indian  Reserve." 

That  bogus  company  had  been  giving  Grey  Wolf  much 
trouble  of  late.  Men  and  women  had  come  up  to  take  pos- 
session of  land  that  never  was  there,  and  of  Indian  Re- 
serve which  no  one  could  sell.  Some  had  given  all  they 
had  for  the  little  bits  of  worthless  paper  which  they  had 
brought  to  Ducane  or  Tempest  with  wrath  or  tears.  Tem- 
pest had  had  a  woman  in  the  office  yesterday,  and  he  did 
not  forget  it.  But  this  assertion  staggered  him. 

"  By  what  right  do  you  make  such  an  insinuation  ?  "  he 
said  sharply. 

"  It  is  not  an  insinuation.  Robison  is  related  to  half  the 
tribes  in  the  North.  Pasasun  is  a  connection  of  his.  Rob- 
ison is  very  thick  with  Ducane.  Morally  I  dare  say  he 
is  the  better  man.  But  they  hardly  move  in  the  same  so- 
cial circles.  Why  are  they  friends?  They  are  working 
some  underhand  game  together.  I  have  heard  of  more 
than  one  breed  selling  Robison  scrip-land  lately.  Where 
does  Robison  get  the  money?  From  Ducane.  Where  does 
Ducane  get  it ;  for  all  the  world  knows  he  hasn't  a  cent  to 
spend  on  his  land?  From  the  bogus  company.  Where  do 
they  get  it?  From  the  innocents  down  in  Virginia  and 
Kentucky,  and  away  in  England,  who  are  hooked  by  the 
prospectuses  and  pamphlets  which  Ducane  and  Robison 
concoct  and  send  out,  for  a  consideration,  to  the  bogus 
company." 

"  This  is  only  deduction,  you  know." 

"  Everything  is  deduction  originally.  Do  you  remem- 
ber this  official  report  showing  that  one  or  two  breeds  near 
Chipwyan  have  taken  scrip  lately?  I  know  that  one  sold 
again  at  once.  How  does  the  Government  Commissioner 
know  that  they  are  breeds?  If  Robison  can  persuade  a 
light-coloured  Indian  to  take  oath  that  he  is  a  breed — 
and  we  know  that  this  is  occasionally  done,  that  Indian 
will  get  his  breed  privileges,  and  his  scrip-land  from  the 
Government.  Then  he  sells  it  to  Robison,  which  means 
Ducane,  and  Ducane  pays  for  it  with  the  commissions  on 
Lis  work  for  the  bogus  company." 

Tempest  sat  still  with  his  chin  in  his  hand. 


56  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  What  has  all  this  to  do  with  Pasasun's  drunkenness?  " 
he  said. 

"  Possibly  Robison  was  drunk  too.  But  he  is  more  ac- 
customed to  it.  Ducane  would  necessarily  need  to  treat 
Robison  and  his  relations  sometimes — privately,  of 
course." 

"  This  is  a  very  heavy  charge,  Dick.  I  can  hardly  think 
that  you  are  right.  Besides,  Ducane  has  very  few  per- 
mits, and  he  only  brought  five  gallons  in  with  him.  And  he 
can't  get  much  from  Grange,  or  Grange  would  speak  of  it. 
He's  honest." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  chap,  there  have  been  plenty  of  permits 
booked  outside  lately  in  the  name  of  men  who  never  or- 
dered them,  and  received  inside  by  Ogilvie  and  others  who 
are  not  supposed  to  have  them.  We  know  that  much — 
unofficially,  of  course." 

A  permit  is  a  two-gallon  cask  of  whiskey  allowed,  for 
certain  money  paid  down,  to  be  received  at  various  times 
by  various  men  of  substance  and  character.  But,  like  all 
things  defined  by  law,  it  holds  loopholes  for  evasion.  Tem- 
pest swung  sharp  in  his  chair. 

"  Do  we  know  that  much  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Do  you  think  it  necessary  to  play  the  innocent  with 
me?" 

Tempest  stiffened.  His  body  took  on  hard  outlines. 

"  I  wonder  what  sort  of  man  you  really  are  now,"  he 
said  slowly.  "  How  long  have  you  known  of  this  ?  " 

"  Ever  since  I  came.  And  I  considered  that  you  were 
using  your  common-sense  in  shutting  your  eyes  to  it. 
There's  no  use  in  drawing  too  tight  a  rein,  and  we'd 
never  get  any  information  with  every  man's  hand  against 
us." 

He  found  himself  being  led  into  excuses,  and  he  stopped 
in  anger. 

"  Do  you  remember  your  oath  ?  "  asked  Tempest. 

"I  believe  you  have  turned  out  rather  funnier  than  you 
promised  to  be,"  observed  Dick  approvingly. 

"Never  mind  that.     Do  you?" 

"  I  remember  subscribing  my  fervid  appreciation  to 
several  things  which  no  man  keeps  or  is  expected  to 
keep." 


"I   KNOW    WHAT   I'M   AT"  57 

"  You'll  keep  them  while  you're  under  me,  or  I'll  have 
you  discharged.  I  don't  intend  that  there  shall  be  any 
scum  in  the  Force  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  You  are  over-valuing  your  powers,  I  think,"  said  Dick ; 
but  his  mockery  was  gone,  even  while  Tempest  looked  at 
him,  remembering  Molson's  assertion  that  this  man  was 
indifferent  to  punishment  and  wondering  what  lever  can 
move  a  will  when  shame  is  broken. 

Then  he  saw  the  painful  red  flush  up  the  brown  skin, 
and  Dick  turned  his  shoulder,  walking  through  the  room. 
Tempest  guessed  then,  with  a  swift  gladness.  This  man 
was  not  indifferent  to  the  opinion  of  the  man  who  had 
been  his  friend.  He  spoke  again,  less  sternly.  And  in 
the  end  Dick  submitted,  rather  from  amused  indifference 
than  conviction.  But  Tempest  had  learnt  something  from 
that  short  contest. 

"  You  know  more  about  this  business  than  I  do,"  he 
said.  "  I  empower  you  to  work  it  up." 

Dick  was  pacing  the  room  with  head  low.  He  stopped 
suddenly. 

"  You  old  devil,"  he  said ;  and  Tempest  smiled. 

"  You've  got  the  executive  faculty  more  developed  at 
short  range  than  anyone  I  know,"  he  said. 

Dick  walked  again.  But  his  face  was  changing.  His 
eyes  brightened  slowly.  Then  he  began  to  laugh  with  a 
soft,  purring  note  like  a  big  cat,  and  his  steps  were  soft  as 
those  of  a  cat. 

"You  give  me  a  free  hand?"  he  said,  and  Tempest 
laughed  again. 

"  As  free  as  compatible  with  your  uniform.  Go  on,  and 
do  your  damndest." 

And  then,  quite  suddenly,  he  remembered  Jennifer. 
Dick's  next  words  trod  on  his  thought. 

"  Ducane  has  a  wife,  hasn't  he?" 

"  That's  so,"  said  Tempest  quietly.  But  Dick  saw  his 
limbs  twitch. 

"Why  haven't  I  seen  her?" 

"  I  suppose  this  first  cold  snap  has  kept  her  at  home." 

"  Take  me  over  to  see  her  to-morrow." 

"  Give  me  your  word  you  won't " 

"  Good  Lord !  no,  man.     That's  what  I  want  her  for. 


58  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

It's  always  easier  to  get  at  a  man  through  his  women- 
folk." 

Tempest  looked  at  the  face  that  was  red  with  the  light 
of  the  lamp  which  Poley  had  just  brought  into  the  pass- 
age. It  was  a  dangerous  face.  It  was  recklessly  alive 
and  alluring,  and  there  was  a  spark  of  eagerness  in  it  now 
that  turned  Tempest  sick. 

"You're  a  brute,  Dick,"  he  said. 

"  Very  possibly.  But  I'm  going  to  shoot  Ducane  out 
of  here.  He  has  jockeyed  the  District  long  enough,  and — 
I  guess  that  case  is  worth  while.  But  I  want  your  post- 
mark on  me  with  the  wife.  It  will  save  a  deal  of  time." 

"  What  do  you  purpose  doing  with  her  ?  " 

"Making  her  talk,  of  course.     What  else?" 

"  You'll  end  by  making  her  suffer — when  she  knows 
what  she  has  talked  for." 

"  Well "  Dick  put  Jennifer  aside  with  a  gesture. 

"  Why  should  women  get  off  cheaper  than  men  ?  "  he  said. 
"  They  are  one-half  the  human  race,  and  they  are  account- 
able for  most  of  the  mistakes  it  makes — the  dear  crea- 
tures !  " 

"  They  don't  get  off  cheaper." 

"  Mrs.  Ducane  isn't  going  to  get  ten  years — or  may  be 
twenty — for  fraud.  Ducane  is,  I  hope.  And  she'll  prob- 
ably be  very  glad  to  get  rid  of  him.  Then,  suddenly,  "  Is 
your  talk  about  your  work  meaning  more  to  you  than  any- 
thing all  hot  air  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  No." 

"  Then  don't  put  a  spoke  in  my  wheel  with  Mrs.  Du- 
cane. I  know  what  I'm  at!" 

Tempest  was  leaning  forward  with  his  face  in  his  hand. 
Quite  clearly  he  saw  that  inexorable  law  which  is  made 
for  all  time.  Canada  was  calling;  the  coming  nation  was 
calling;  the  type  which  nature  is  eternally  building  anew 
was  calling.  And  the  individual,  the  separate  soul,  must, 
now  as  ever,  be  powdered  to  dust  to  feed  it,  if  need  be. 
It  was  the  law;  and  there  big  and  dark,  with  the  red  light 
on  his  face,  was  the  kind  of  man  whom  Nature  chooses  to 
enforce  these  kinds  of  laws  for  her.  He  spoke  slowly. 

"  I'll  take  you — if  necessary." 

Dick  came  near.     His  eyes  were  curious. 


"I    KNOW    WHAT    I'M    AT "  £0 

"  I  believe  you'd  offer  up  me — yourself — your  own  wife 
if  it  were  necessary,"  he  said. 

"If  it  were  necessary  I  shouldn't  have  the  choice,"  said 
Tempest,  unguessing  the  future. 

But  Dick  walked  out  of  the  room  whistling. 

"  We  all  have  the  choice,  my  son  of  a  gun,"  he  said. 
"  And  that's  why  we  are  so  precious  sure  that  there  is  a 
hell." 

Tempest  sat  in  the  half-dark  room  for  very  long.  This 
matter  had  brought  him  to  the  edge  of  understanding 
again,  where  he  sought,  painfully,  blindly,  as  the  human 
must  always  seek,  for  the  reason  of  it  all. 

What  was  the  secret,  the  solution  behind  all  this  bru- 
tality and  unmeaningness?  What  was  that  Power  which 
weaves  and  unweaves,  makes  and  unmakes,  gives  to  life 
and  takes  back  to  death?  What  does  it  mean  by  playing 
cat  and  mouse  with  man  through  all  the  endless  centuries? 
What  is  that  great  resistless  Power  which  draws  us  in 
over  the  rollers  of  the  present  to  tear  us  up  in  the  ma- 
chinery of  the  future?  And  why,  since  all  of  life  goes  to 
feed  the  same  mill,  should  there  be  such  divers  and  nice 
complexities  in  our  being?  Tempest  turned  his  mind  on 
these  men  and  women  just  under  his  hand.  Dick,  indif- 
ferent concerning  his  sins  and  the  sins  of  others,  yet 
whipped  by  a  sudden  trick  of  fancy  into  a  merciless  en- 
forcer of  the  law.  Ducane,  the  fine  blustering  shell  of  a 
man,  with  the  soul  of  a  louse,  and  yet  capable  of  that 
strange  redeeming  love  for  his  wife.  Jennifer,  herself 
blind  on  the  rim  of  all  the  mysteries,  deaf  te  the  clamour 
of  that  sharp-toothed  machine  which  is  the  future.  Robi- 
son,  animal  and  man  in  one,  born  to  suffer  for  the  more 
refined  sins  of  others.  What  were  they  for?  What  was 
the  great  secret  which  would  fuse  all  this  muddle  of  flesh 
and  spirit  throughout  the  straining  universe  into  that  ma- 
jestic all-conquering  whole  which  alone  could  justify  its 
being? 

Tempest  never  asked  himself  if  there  was  a  meaning. 
He  had  come  into  that  knowledge  long  since.  But  again 
and  again,  as  now,  he  shaped  half-aloud  the  question 
which  belongs  to  the  next  step  of  the  way. 

"  God — or  whatever  Great  Power  you  call  Yourself — 


60  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

what  is  it  for?  What  are  you  doing  it  all  for?  What  is 
the  secret?  What  is  the  meaning?  And  why  can't  we 
know  it  to  help  us  ?  " 

All  that  was  good  and  pure  and  fine  in  him  reached  out 
for  the  answer,  stopping  his  breath.  Far-off  worlds 
seemed  to  creak  and  groan  as  they  swung  their  ordered 
way.  Far  off  that  secret  lay,  brooding  calm  interpretation 
over  chaos.  Tempest  had  come  so  far  many  times  with 
the  knowledge  that  the  secret  was  not  for  the  dwellers  on 
the  earth.  Now,  halting  just  one  instant  with  the  wind 
and  the  flesh  of  those  worlds  in  his  face,  he  saw  further 
before  he  dropped  back  to  earth.  He  straightened  in  his 
chair,  closing  his  hand  slowly  on  the  table. 

"  Before  God  it  is  for  us,"  he  said.  "  Because  it  is 
formed  by  us  and  works  through  us.  Without  us  the 
meaning  and  the  secret  and  the  solution  couldn't  be.  It 
needs  us  as  we  need  it.  We  belong  to  each  other,  and  we 
can't  make  the  whole  until  we  find  it.  And  yet  we  eter- 
nally lock  it  out  from  our  understandings." 

His  eyes  were  wide,  unseeing;  the  eyes  of  the  dreamer 
who  dreams  realities ;  of  the  man  who  looks  into  his  soul. 
The  intensity  of  that  inner  search  whitened  his  face,  draw- 
ing it  into  lines.  At  last  he  stood  up.  The  finite  will 
would  hold  him  in  those  rarer  heights  no  longer.  But  he 
had  taken  one  step  further.  By  whatever  mysterious  ways 
the  secret  of  Life  is  hid  from  man;  by  whatever  myste- 
rious ways  he  may  stumble  to  it  at  last,  it  is  there  to  be 
found.  Because  it  is  not  God  who  has  hidden  it,  but  man 
himself. 

A  moment  longer  he  waited,  as  though  to  gird  up  his 
loins. 

"  Great  Power,"  he  said,  "  we've  got  to  find  that  secret; 
to  justify  ourselves — and  You." 

In  the  passage  the  yoke  of  routine  fell  on  him  again. 
He  took  the  lamp  and  went  swiftly  up  the  narrow  stairs 
to  give  Dick  a  forgotten  order.  The  bunk-room  was 
empty,  but  he  halted  a  moment,  sweeping  the  light  round 
it.  He  had  not  been  there  since  Dick  came,  and  the  man's 
personality  rose  at  him  from  every  corner.  On  Dick's 
bare  bunk,  with  its  neat  sausage  of  rolled  clothes  at  the 
head,  lay  his  fur  coat  and  cap,  his  half-cleaned  rifle,  and 


"I   KNOW    WHAT   I'M   AT "  61 

a  torn  shirt  stained  with  oil.  His  black  oilskin  kit 
sprawled  on  the  floor,  vomiting  underwear  and  stockings, 
and  the  well-known  initials  stared  up  from  it  in  bold 
white.  Waist-belts,  cartridge-belts,  empty  shells,  leather 
straps,  an  unrolled  puttee,  moccasins,  and  a  spur  with  a 
broken  rowel  strewed  Kennedy's  bed,  conclusively  prov- 
ing that  Kennedy  was  away.  And  Dick's  clothes  were 
everywhere.  Against  the  wall  a  half-dozen  of  his  sketches 
were  crookedly  pasted;  but  never  a  photograph  or  a  pic- 
ture to  hint  of  past  days. 

Tempest  walked  across  the  room  to  look  at  the  sketches. 
Kennedy  had  regularly  ripped  them  down  until  Dick 
brought  the  paste-pot,  and  they  showed  signs  of  his  dis- 
approval. 

"  Sloushy  kind  o'  thoughts,"  he  called  them ;  but  Tem- 
pest looked  at  them  with  bitten  lips. 

A  woman's  moccasin,  one;  fine  in  the  upper  with  bead- 
work  and  porcupine-quills,  but  worn  through  and  blood- 
stained in  the  sole.  A  spider-web  spun  from  star  to  star, 
to  catch  a  spinning  world.  A  half-shut  eye  on  the  edge 
of  space,  looking  out  with  serene  contemplation  on  noth- 
ingness. Two  heads ;  the  man's  stooped  to  that  of  the 
woman  who  lifted  her  lips  but  covered  her  eyes. 

Tempest  trod  down  again  slowly.  Was  Dick  also  seek- 
ing in  his  own  wild  way  for  that  eternal  secret?  And,  if 
so,  which  man  would  find  it,  or  would  both  go  out  into 
the  rimless  future,  seeking  still?  Very  surely  they  sought 
along  different  trails — Dick  with  the  bitter  goad  of  a 
wasted  life  to  flail  him  on;  Tempest  with  the  pure  heart 
to  which  it  is  promised  that  it  shall  see  God.  Down  in 
the  kitchen  he  heard  Poley  setting  out  the  granite  bowls 
and  cups  in  which  Dick  carried  the  food  across  the  yard 
to  the  cells.  Then  he  heard  Dick  swear  in  sharp  wrath 
at  the  heat  of  the  bowls. 

"  Don't  you  try  those  games  with  me,  you  old  sinner," 
he  said.  "  Fetch  me  some  plates  to  put  'em  on." 

"  Don't  you  come  your  Judge-an'- whole-dam-constitu- 
tion style  over  me,"  retorted  Poley  with  spirit.  "  Fetch 
yer  bloomin'  plates  yer  bloomin'  self." 

Tempest  waited  the  next  move  with  interest.  Dick 
spoke  softly. 


62  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  I  promised  to  take  my  next  sketch  of  you  down  to 
Grange's.  That  new  waitress  seemed  quite  a  good  deal 
struck  on  you,  Poley." 

In  the  dark  Tempest  grinned.  He  heard  Poley  shuffle 
over  the  floor. 

"  There's  yer  plates,"  he  said  pacifically.  "  Off  wi*  yer. 
I'll  open  the  door." 

An  icy  breath  rushed  in  to  prove  it.  Tempest  turned 
into  his  own  room.  Dick's  knowledge  of  the  forces  which 
moved  humanity  might  not  be  high,  but  no  man  could 
deny  that  they  were  occasionally  diabolically  convincing. 

On  the  next  morning  when  breakfast  was  done  Tem- 
pest gave  his  commands  to  Dick. 

"  You'll  have  to  go  out  on  the  Moon-Dance  trail  right 
away/'  he  said.  "  Word  has  just  come  in  that  O'Hara  has 
had  his  team  go  to  blazes  with  him  again.  He  always 
does,  but  I'm  afraid  he's  got  it  for  good  this  time.  De 
Choiseaux  is  just  off,  and  I  want  you  along  with  him  to 
take  O'Hara's  depositions  if  necessary." 

Dick  had  his  own  ideas  for  that  day. 

"  We  were  going  over  to  Ducane's,"  he  objected. 

"  That  -can  wait.  O'Hara  probably  won't.  You'd  best 
take  some  grub,  and — you  may  have  to  stay  all  night,  you 
know."  Then,  ten  minutes  later,  when  the  doctor's  rig 
swung  up  to  the  door,  he  added,  "  De  Choiseaux  has 
mighty  little  English  and  O'Hara  hasn't  a  word  of  French. 
If  you  have  to  put  him  through  just — be  a  bit  merciful 
if  he  hasn't  your  contempt  for  such  small  things  as  eternity 
and  death." 

Dick  nodded  sulkily  at  the  whimsical  face,  and  tucked 
himself  into  the  rig  where  the  pony  fidgeted  with  lowered 
quarters  and  ears  laid  back. 

"  You'd  best  do  those  kind  o'chores  yourself,"  he  mut- 
tered. And  then,  as  the  pony  went  down  the  trail  like  a 
loosed  spring,  he  turned  his  collar  up  against  the  air  that 
was  sharp  and  brittle-feeling  as  glass,  and  retired  on  his 
inmost  thought. 

De  Choiseaux  drove  with  his  knees  up  and  a  rein  in  each 
great  fur-mittened  hand.  He  was  doctor  for  some  un- 
counted hundreds  of  miles  here  and  there,  and  as  French 
as  a  man  can  possibly  be  who  has  lived  twelve  strenuous 


"I   KNOW    WHAT    I'M   AT'  63 

months  in  the  North- West.  Dick  destested  him;  and  de 
Choiseaux,  never  guessing  that  Dick  could  have  used  to 
him  much  better  French  than  his  own,  accepted  the  dis- 
abilities of  "  these  so  gauche  English,"  and  extended  him  a 
gentle  compassion  mixed  with  encouragement.  But  Dick 
proving  blank  against  all  things  just  now,  de  Choiseaux 
cracked  his  whip  at  the  solitudes  and  talked  to  his  mad- 
headed  pony  instead. 

The  pines  were  ebony  columns  upbearing  a  mighty 
nave-roof  of  snow  on  frozen  branches,  and  the  little  trees 
stood  among  them  like  tufted  candles  at  a  shrine.  The 
whole  forest  was  very  still,  with  the  thrumming  note  of  the 
sled  runners  sounding  through  it  like  the  diapason  of  an 
organ.  Once  Dick's  trained  eyes  saw  a  single  footprint 
which  showed  where  a  trapper  had  left  the  trail.  Once 
a  flurry  of  snow  that  told  where  a  struggle  had  been.  And 
once  again-  a  black  stick  explained  that  it  had  snapped  and 
shed  its  burden  since  the  last  snowfall.  He  noted  these 
things  because  it  was  his  nature.  But  the  whole  of  his 
conscious  mind  was  focussed  on  Ducane. 

He  had  no  special  quarrel  with  Ducane,  any  more  than 
he  had  special  interest  in  the  people  of  Grey  Wolf.  When 
Tempest  spoke,  vague  desire  stirred  in  him  to  look  on  his 
work  as  a  sacred  thing.  When  alone  he  knew  that  he 
looked  on  it  as  a  mink  looks  on  the  trail  which  it  follows. 
To  track  a  man  into  the  very  burrow  where  he  lies  hid; 
to  jump  on  him  sudden  and  sharp,  noting  in  what  manner 
he  bears  himself  under  the  supreme  moment — these  were 
some  of  the  very  few  things  that  did  not  grow  stale  to 
Dick.  The  unexpectedness  of  the  human;  the  impossibil- 
ity of  calculating  exactly  when  he  will  double  or  run  back- 
wards or  spring;  these  were  the  things  that  gave  joy  to 
the  chase  and  made  it  worth  while.  And  all  the  good  or 
evil  that  neglect  or  fulfilment  of  his  work  might  mean  to 
Canada  were  such  a  side  issue  that  he  always  roused  in 
new  surprise  when  Tempest  spoke  of  it.  And  yet  he  had 
a  genius  for  his  work  which  Tempest  would  never  have, 
although  Tempest  offered  flesh  and  spirit  to  it  daily. 

The  sled  swayed  out  of  the  forest  and  a  white  ocean 
heaved  broad  billows  about  them.  Bush  and  hollow, 
ridge  and  snake-fence  were  as  levelly  white  as  paper. 


64  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Dick  wondered  idly  what  kind  of  land  O'Hara  was  like*lo 
find  where  he  was  going.  Would  the  vivid  air  bring  the 
blood  leaping  from  a  man's  heart  along  his  veins  there? 
Would  there  be  a  bullmoose  like  that  one  on  horizon  to 
strike  a  wonderful  note  of  virility  over  this  senseless  snow 
that  pushed  itself  against  the  pale  blue  of  the  sky? 
Would  a  trail  like  this  of  the  Moon-Dance,  kept  hard  by 
the  passing  of  many  Indians,  lead  O'Hara  anywhere — 
anywhere  at  all?  Dick  yawned,  and  turned  to  torment  de 
Choiseaux. 

"  I  think  that  pony  is  going  lame  on  the  near  fore," 
he  said. 

"Comment?"  said  de  Choiseaux.  Then  he  apologized 
and  endeavoured  to  struggle  down  to  Dick's  level.  He  was 
struggling  still  when  Dick  sat  upright  with  a  sharp  oath 
which  cut  de  Choiseaux's  efforts  in  half.  O'Hara's  shack 
lay  on  the  snow  like  a  boat  in  the  trough  of  a  wave;  and, 
down  the  slope  where  a  snake-fence  was  broken  and  tangled, 
an  up-ended  sled  tilted  athwart  a  dead  horse.  A  trail 
wound  from  the  sled  to  the  shack;  a  wide  smudged  trail, 
dabbled  here  and  there  with  blood;  and,  twisted  through 
and  through  it  like  a  thread,  ran  the  coyote-spore  which 
antedated  the  accident  twenty  hours  back  at  least. 

"But  he  brought  himself  in,"  said  Dick.  "Well — a 
man  has  to  pay  for  his  carelessness." 

He  followed  his  knock  into  the  shack.  But  de  Choi- 
seaux shot  past  him,  gripping  his  great  black  bag  in  both 
hands. 

"  Ah,  mon  brave,"  he  began.  "  Eh !  Get  pauvre 
petit " 

O'Hara  moved,  and  unquenchable  humour  gleamed  in  his 
eye. 

"  Faith,  Docthor,  dear,"  he  said.  "  'Twas  main  thought- 
ful ov  ye  tu  bring  me  coffin  wid  ye." 

Dick  laughed,  stooping  over  the  bunk. 

"  You've  got  your  wits,  anyhow,"  he  said.  "  How  are 
you,  O'Hara?" 

"  That's  for  him  to  tell,"  said  O'Hara  slowly.  "  I — 
dunno." 

Instinct  told  Dick  that  he  did.  And  then  de  Choiseaux 
went  to  work  with  the  energy  of  a  man  chopping  wood. 


«I   KNOW    WHAT   I'M   AT"  65 

Ejaculations  flew  like  chips,  spattering  over  the  Irishman's 
occasional  groans,  and  Dick  kept  out  of  range  until  a 
shout  from  O'Hara  brought  him  over  to  see  part  of  the 
shining  contents  of  that  bag  ranged  along  the  floor. 

"  Kape  him  off  with  them  saws,"  roared  O'Hara.  "  Set 
him  cuttin'  lumber  tu  build  a  house.  Begorra,  he  has 
machinery  enough  wid  him.  Och,  Corp'ral,  what  did  ye 
let  him  intu  here  wid  all  that  tu  him  for  ?  " 

"  C'est  necessaire,"  shrilled  de  Choiseaux,  and  spilt  the 
odour  of  chloroform  into  the  air. 

Grey  and  sweating  with  pain  O'Hara  leaned  over,  se- 
lected a  wooden  mallet  from  beside  the  bunk,  and  jerked 
it  with  under-arm  swing  into  the  shining  array. 

"  Maybe  that'll  tache  him  to  putt  a  dacent  men  tu  slape 
so  he  can  walk  off  wid  his  appendums  an'  things,"  he  said. 
"  Just  tell  him  that  if  I'm  dyin'  I'm  dyin'  in  wan  piece, 
Corp'ral,  dear." 

"  II  est  fol,"  said  de  Choiseaux,  advancing  with  the 
sponge. 

Dick  glanced  from  the  brisk-stepping  little  man  with 
the  erect  shock  of  hair  to  the  heavily-breathing  giant  on 
the  bunk,  and  the  grim  humour  of  these  man-made  limi- 
tations which  will  not  untangle  even  with  Death  as  inter- 
preter tickled  him  to  something  near  laughter.  Then  he 
assaulted  the  amazed  de  Choiseaux  irt  a  pure  French  that 
left  him  sputtering,  and  stooped  again  to  O'Hara. 

"  Be  easy,  O'Hara,"  he  said.  "  He  is  not  going  to 
touch  you." 

There  was   silence.     Then  O'Hara  said: 

"What  du  that  mane?" 

"  I  fancy  you  know,"  said  Dick,  with  dropped  voice. 
And  the  whole  of  him  was  alert  if  sudden  action  were 
needed. 

One  shudder  ran  through  O'Hara.  Then  he  burst  into 
a  blaze  of  wrath. 

"What    du    that want    wid    cuttin'    me    up,    thin? 

What  did  he  mane,  the  blood-suckin'  little  skunk?  Howly 
mother,  lind  me  the  loan  ov  him  till  I  wring  the  little  wry 
neck  ov  him " 

"  Delirium,"  crowed  de  Choiseaux,  bobbing  into  range. 
"  Parblieu !  I  expected  it." 


66  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Dick  swung  him  clear  of  the  giant's  long  arm. 

"  You'll  likely  get  what  you  don't  expect  in  a  minute," 
he  said.  "  Steady,  O'Hara.  It's  only  professional  in- 
stinct. He  had  to  try  to  do  something." 

"  Let  him  go  an'  thry  ut  outside,  thin."  O'Hara  dropped 
back  exhausted.  "  Arrah !  Get  me  rid  ov  him !  How 
shud  I  be  turnin*  me  sowl  tu  hivin  wid  him  an'  his  knives 
af ther  me  ?  " 

Dick  made  the  matter  clear  and  comprehensive.  De 
Choiseaux  met  it  with  heated  reference  to  his  diploma  and 
other  matters.  Then  Dick  took  him  by  the  elbows  and 
ran  him  out,  for  a  certain  look  on  O'Hara's  face  had 
warned  him  that  there  was  no  time  for  civilities.  He  trod 
back  softly,  laying  his  warm  living  hand  over  the  clammy 
one. 

"  All  right,"  he  said.  "  You  can  take  your  time  about 
it.  Now — have  you  any  matters  to  fix  up  ?  " 

O'Hara  spoke  with  long  pauses  between,  and  Dick  fol- 
lowed the  lips  with  his  pencil.  O'Hara's  dog  howled  once 
with  its  nose  up.  Then  it  curled  in  the  blankets  at  its 
master's  feet  and  slept.  A  clock  on  the  wall  ticked  busily, 
shortening  down  the  minutes,  one  by  one.  At  last  O'Hara 
raised  himself,  and  his  eyes  grew  dark. 

"  I — wud  be  wantin'  tu  make  me  confession,"  he  gasped. 

Dick  sat  back  on  his  heels  in  alarm. 

"  Holy  Powers,  don't  make  it  to  me,  man,"  he  said. 
"I've  sins  enough  of  my  own." 

"  Anny  man   can  give  anny  man  absolution " 

"  I  couldn't.  Don't  speak  of  such  a  hideous  farce. 
Ask  de  Choiseaux." 

"  If  the  Sergeant  had  sint  a  praste — why  didn't  he  sind 
a  praste  ?  " 

"  You  never  go  to  chapel.  I  suppose  he  didn't  know 
you  had  any  religion." 

"  A  man  foinds  the  nade  ov  ut — when  he  comes  tu 
ft' >» 

"Does  he?"  Dick  wondered  a  moment.  "I  can't  see 
what  difference  it  makes,"  he  said.  "  But  go  on,  if  it's 
any  amusement  to  you.  I'm  listening." 

O'Hara  spoke  in  whispers  broken  by  the  ebb  and  flow  of 
his  life-tide.  And  then  he  twisted  on  his  bed. 


"I   KNOW    WHAT   I'M   AT'  67 

"Grange's  Andree  has  come  back  tu  Grey  Wolf,"  he 
said.  "  I  was  goin'  in  tu  see  her  when — this  came." 

Dick  nodded.  He  was  not  concerned  with  Grange's  An- 
3ree.  His  mind  was  puzzling  over  some  of  the  bald,  stupid 
things  which  were  all  O'Hara  had  been  able  to  do  in  the 
way  of  sin.  O'Hara's  hand  shot  out  and  grasped  Dick's 
sleeve. 

"  Corp'ral,"  he  whispered.  "  For  what  ye  may  hear 
about  that  girl  du  not  lay  ut  up  against  her.  Du  not. 
An' — ye'll  hear  plenty.  She's  no  more  than  the  birrd  in 
the  forest  for  understanding.  It  goes  wid  the  natur  ov 
her  tu  have  the  bhoys  afther  her — faith,  they're  all  that 

an*  more.  And  she  don't  know — she  don't  know " 

His  voice  broke  and  caught  up  again.  "  Maybe  she  have 
not  a  sowl — or  a  heart — I  dunno.  I  dunno.  But  I 
wudn't  she  had  a  hearrt  in  her  tu  make  her  sad.  Betther 
as  she  is,  the  darlin'.  Betther  as  she  is.  An'  if  a  man 
says  anything  against  her — give  him  the  lie  from  me.  An' 
who  wud  give  ut  if  ut  was  not  me " 

Dick  was  interested  now. 

"Where  has  she  been?"  he  said. 

"Outside — tu  Calgary — I  was  woild  tu  see  her  again, 
an*  I  putt  in  the  furrst  horse  that  come — well — bhut  give 
me  the  worrd  on  the  lips  ov  ye,  Corp'ral.  Say:  '  If  anny 
man  says  annything  against  her  O'Hara  will  come  back  tu 
give  the  lie  tu  him/  Say  ut." 

Dick  said  it,  not  knowing  that  he  himself  was  to  qualify 
for  O'Hara's  visit  very  fully  in  the  days  to  come. 

"Mary — have  mercy "  muttered  O'Hara;  and  fell 

into  stupor,  and  presently  went  on  to  present  his  prayer 
in  person. 

When  the  necessary  work  was  done  by  the  two  men  mov- 
ing softly  in  the  dingy  shack,  de  Choiseaux  drove  home 
through  the  coming  dark  to  one  who  needed  him  still,  and 
Dick  turned  to  the  labour  that  was  his  to  do. 

He  overhauled  O'Hara's  freight-sled  in  the  stable,  pad- 
ding it  level  with  empty  sacks  and  blankets.  He  went 
with  his  knife  to  the  snake-fence  and  cut  and  dragged 
the  harness  clear  of  the  dead  horse,  while  the  sun  turned 
all  the  waste  of  snow  to  pink  and  delicate  umber  that 
steeled  to  cold  blue,  and  the  rigid  air  numbed  his  nose 


68  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

to  the  edge  of  frost-bite,  and  left  his  fingers  stiff  when 
he  had  rubbed  that  danger  away.  He  fed  the  living  re- 
mainder of  O'Hara's  team  while  the  dog  slunk  at  his  heels, 
explaining  the  fear  that  was  in  him.  Then  he  lit  up  the 
stove  and  fed  himself,  with  O'Hara  unobjecting  in  the 
bunk  against  the  wall;  and  later,  he  brought  horse  and 
sled  to  the  door,  got  O'Hara  aboard  with  difficulty,  and 
started  back  with  the  dog  at  his  feet  for  the  eight-hour 
drive  into  Grey  Wolf. 

Death  meant  less  to  him  than  to  many  men.  The  trage- 
dies that  belong  to  the  loneliness  meant  less,  because  famili- 
arity had  worn  away  the  edges  that  cut.  He  sat  hunched  in 
his  furs,  with  keen  eyes  only  uncovered,  and  the  sledge  bur- 
ring on  the  hard-stamped  trail.  Up  in  the  pale  night  the 
moon  stared  nakedly;  the  Lights  blew  up  like  white  smoke 
from  the  world's  pipe  of  peace,  then  melted  suddenly  into 
a  spirit-dance  of  indecent  glee,  with  the  swishing  of  silken 
flags  and  the  crackle  of  far-off  laughter. 

The  snow  lay  in  wind-rows  to  all  horizons,  and  every 
wave  of  it  was  a  swathe  flung  down  to  die.  The  dog  at 
Dick's  feet  raised  himself  to  smell  the  air  and  howl,  and 
back  at  the  snake-fence  a  coyote  barked  in  answer.  Then, 
far  across  the  waste,  drifted  their  shadows,  one  by  one; 
slinking,  silent,  seeking  blood.  The  single  howl  of  a 
wolf  rang  metallic  out  of  the  forest  ahead,  and  Dick's 
senses,  always  vividly  alive,  understood.  The  North- 
West  was  abroad  amongst  her  own ;  indifferent  to  those 
who  served  her  and  died  by  her  hand;  splendid  in  her 
arrogance,  calm  with  irresistible  power,  with  careless 
cruelty.  All  the  wild  things  that  she  nurtured  fought  her, 
tooth  and  claw,  for  their  subsistence.  All  the  soft-tread- 
ing, keen-eyed  men  of  the  back-trail  met  her,  breast  to 
breast  and  grip  to  iron  grip.  She  played  with  them,  kissed 
them  with  her  fragrant  lips  of  summer,  taught  them  to 
love  her,  and  then  fastened  on  them  swiftly  with  her  sharp 
white  teeth  and  her  breath  that  kills. 

Dick  looked  at  a  couple  of  big  stars  that  watched  him 
indolently  over  the  flank  of  the  range,  and  his  mind  slid 
back  to  Grange's  Andree — the  girl  who  had  no  soul  for 
the  man  who  loved  her. 

The   Lights   rollicked  in  their  game   of  hide-and-seek 


"I   KNOW    WHAT    I'M   AT"  69 

over  half  a  world.  The  moon  slid  low,  indifferent  still; 
the  black  hard  line  of  the  forest  neared  and  opened,  let- 
ting them  into  a  world  of  dimness  where  the  tall  trees 
stood  like  mutes  with  bowed  heads  cowled  with  white. 
Very  sound  seemed  frozen  silent.  The  whispering  creak 
of  the  sledge  grew  finer,  thinner.  The  moon  dropped 
down  and  the  Lights  went  home  to  the  waiting  bergs,  and 
the  life  that  moved  in  the  forest  was  stealthy  as  they. 

The  world  was  dark  yet  when  the  pale  line  of  the 
frozen  lake  rose  like  a  ghost  by  the  trail-side.  A  pair 
of  prowling  Indian  dogs,  hungry  as  their  race  has  been 
through  immemorable  ages,  loped  alongside  with  raised 
bristles, .  smelling  the  dog  at  Dick's  feet.  It  swore  de- 
fiance back  until  Dick  kicked  it  out  to  make  its  own  ar- 
rangements, and  he  drove  down  the  one  street  of  Grey 
Wolf  with  a  chorus  waking  the  echoes  about  him. 

In  a  side-window  at  Grange's  a  sudden  match  spurted 
into  light  and  stayed.  Dick  had  an  idle  fancy  as  he  drove 
past.  Did  Grange's  Andree  know  that  O'Hara  had  come 
into  Grey  Wolf  to  keep  his  tryst  after  all? 


CHAPTER  IV 
"  GRANGE'S   ANDREE." 

ON  the  next  morning  Dick  went  to  church.  It  was  not  the 
solemnity  of  his  late  contact  with  death,  nor  the  knowl- 
edge that  O'Hara  lay  in  the  Roman  Catholic  chapel  with 
lights  at  his  head  and  feet,  that  disturbed  him.  But 
after  he  had  slept  and  breakfasted  and  given  in  the  writ- 
ten matter  concerning  that  day's  work  to  Tempest,  he 
looked  from  the  bunk-room  window  and  heard  the  English 
church-bell  ring,  and  saw  a  girl  go  by  with  a  long  coat  of 
warm-coloured  fur  and  copper-red  hair  that  gleamed  once 
under  her  cap.  And  Dick  rushed  himself  into  his  outer 
clothes  and  followed  her.  For  the  flutter  of  a  woman's 
dress  was  always  a  flag  that  blew  for  him,  and  his  mind 
had  not  forgotten  the  dead  man  and  the  broken  sled  that 
attested  to  his  haste  to  see  Grange's  Andree. 

The  church  was  little  and  bare,  with  a  few  staring  Sun- 
day-school texts  on  the  wall.  The  big  black  stove-fun- 
nel ran  its  hot  length  down  the  aisle,  and  a  handful  of 
derelicts  had  drifted  in  for  warmth,  as  the  vagrants  do  in 
continental  churches.  The  preacher  was  a  young,  shy 
man  from  the  English  Mission  on  the  other  side  of  Grey 
Wolf;  Forbes,  the  English  boy  in  Revillons,  played  the 
harmonium;  and,  scattered  here  and  there  along  the  fun- 
nel-line, were  the  half-score  trader's  wives  and  families 
which  were  all  that  Grey  Wolf  could  spare  to  God  on 
Sundays. 

Dick  felt  rather  than  heard  the  little  flutter  caused  by 
his  entrance.  It  amused  him,  for  he  had  no  belief  that  the 
religion  of  the  world  went  very  deep.  He  chose  a  seat 
behind  the  girl  in  the  long  fur  coat,  and  bent  his  head 
idly  to  the  prayer  which  followed.  But  under  his  hand  he 
was  noting  the  thick  coils  of  hair  and  the  lobe  of  the 
small  ear  close-set  to  the  head.  The  artistic  tempera- 
ment was  strong  in  him,  and  if  he  had  not  twisted  his  life 

70 


"GRANGE'S    ANDREE"  71 

awry  he  might  have  done  good  work  there.  Now  that 
power  was  partly  derelict,  like  all  else.  But  the  emotions 
roused  by  it  were  sharp  yet,  and  the  dainty  poise  of  the 
girl's  head  arrested  him. 

It  was  the  end  of  that  struggle  begun  more  than  a 
month  back  which  had  brought  Jennifer  to  church  this 
day.  She  had  not  come  before  because  that  sharp,  pain- 
ful awakening  had  shocked  her  out  of  all  her  normal  be- 
liefs, and  for  a  while  all  things  natural  and  true  were 
distorted  for  her  as  the  vision  of  a  nine-days'  kitten  is 
distorted  when  it  opens  its  eyes  for  the  first  time.  Jen- 
nifer's eyes  opened  for  the  first  time  when  she  fled  in  un- 
reasoning terror  from  Ducane  through  the  sounding  house. 
And  when  he  had  found  her,  and  bullied  her  and  kissed 
her  with  all  the  primitive  fierceness  of  his  nature,  she 
had  hated  him — until  the  tenseness  broke  and  she  hated 
herself  instead. 

That  mood  held,  standing  her  out  in  the  full  blaze  of 
realisation  where  the  nerves  and  fibres  of  her  being  lay 
unnaturally  bare,  quivering  to  each  rough  touch,  and 
each  coarse  word.  And  then  one  night  swept  her  outside 
all  that  for  ever;  one  night  when  she  heard  Ducane's  voice 
raised  in  the  prayer  of  abject  fear,  and  ran  in  to  find 
the  horror  of  it  in  his  face  and  eyes,  and  Robison  watch- 
ing him  in  contemptuous  speculation. 

She  had  sent  Robison  away,  and  Ducane  had  sworn 
at  her.  And  then  he  had  come  after  her  on  his  knees, 
hiding  his  face  in  her  lap.  Jennifer  tasted  the  realities 
that  night;  and  all  the  woman  in  her,  all  the  stricken, 
dying  love  in  her  strove  to  make  allowances,  even  as 
Tempest  had  said.  Ducane's  broken  words,  said  on  his 
knees,  gave  her  back  her  values.  They  placed  her  hus- 
band and  they  placed  herself.  Ducane  was  a  whole  aeon 
nearer  the  brute  than  she  was ;  and  because  of  that  influ- 
ence of  hers  of  which  .Tempest  had  spoken,  he  was  be- 
ginning dimly  to  know  it. 

"You're  so  far  away,  Jenny,"  he  said,  gripping  her 
waist  with  both  his  great  hands.  "  I  can  hold  you  like 
this,  and  you're  right  as  far  away.  What's  the  matter, 

Jenny?     I  love  you.     By you  know  I  love  you,  don't 

you?" 


7S  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

She  knew  it,  even  as  she  knew  him  for  what  he  was  in 
the  eyes  of  men.  And  he  knew  that  his  need  was  great; 
his  need  for  her  love,  for  her  strength,  for  herself.  And 
she  bowed  her  head  in  the  rough  wood  pew  and  offered 
herself  steadfastly,  bravely,  to  him  and  for  him  in  the 
desire  that  Ducane  might  one  day  come  to  his  full  stature 
and  stand  upright  by  his  own  clean  power. 

Young  Forbes  stumbled  out  a  few  bars  on  the  grunting 
harmonium,  and  Jennifer  lifted  her  voice  shakily  in  the 
quaint  old  hymn  beginning: 

"  We  are  but  little  children  weak, 
Nor  born  to  any  high  estate.  .  ." 

And  then,  on  the  third  line,  a  new  voice  surged  up  be- 
hind her — bold,  strong  and  true.  It  broke  the  thread  of 
Jennifer's  thoughts,  jerking  her  into  acute  knowledge  of 
it.  A  man's  voice:  young,  by  the  nerve  of  it,  and  yet 
trained.  A  gentleman's  voice:  but  not  Tempest's,  and  not 
the  husky  tones  of  Ogilvie,  the  Oxford  man  who  was 
drinking  himself  to  death  on  a  remittance.  It  was  not 
Slicker.  It  could  not  be — and  then  Jennifer's  mind 
sprang  to  the  solution.  It  was  that  new  man  at  the  bar- 
racks of  whom  Ducane  had  told  her,  half-whispering,  that 
he  was  afraid.  The  confession  had  burned  her  with  shame 
and  disgust.  Now,  hearing  the  man  made  concrete  by  that 
verile  voice,  her  whole  nature  roused  to  defiance  and  to 
an  oversweeping  desire  to  see  him,  face  to  face. 

All  through  the  hymn  the  impulse  pulled  at  her ;  and 
with  the  "  Amen  "  she  turned,  as  though  seeking  a  wrap 
on  the  seat-back,  and  caught  Dick's  eyes  full.  There  was 
interest  and  bold  amusement  and  cynical  understanding 
in  them,  and  she  swung  back  instantly,  with  the  red  leap- 
ing up  her  face.  Dick  flipped  open  a  stray  Cree  hymn- 
book  ;  and,  stooping  decorously  through  the  following 
prayer,  made  the  first  sketch  of  that  sweet-crooked  mouth 
and  those  wide  eyes  that  he  was  to  know  by  heart  in  later 
days. 

He  ripped  the  page  away  and  thrust  it  in  his  breast- 
pocket when  he  followed  her  out.  But  Jennifer  went 
down  the  white  ways  swiftly,  and  Dick  halted  to  walk 


"GRANGE'S    ANDREE"  73 

with  the  wife  of  the  Hudson  Bay  factor.  It  was  well 
known  in  the  Force  that  Dick  had  his  reasons  for  all  he 
did;  but  Mrs.  Leigh  did  not  guess  at  the  reason  for  this 
civility,  even  when  he  put  it  into  words  on  the  steps  of 
her  own  verandah. 

The  factor's  house  led  down  by  a  clean-swept  path  to 
the  side-door  of  the  Store,  where  two  freighters,  slow- 
moving  yet  dominant  with  that  quiet  self-possession  of  the 
men  of  the  trail,  concluded  a  bargain  with  Leigh.  Their 
rough  dogs  slunk  round,  snuffing  Leigh's  high  moccasins 
and  woollen  stockings,  and  Dick  watched  them  as  he 
spoke. 

"  Seems  to  me  I'm  not  keeping  track  of  the  people 
around,  Mrs.  Leigh.  Where  was  she  from — that  girl  in 
church  with  the  Cenci  eyes  and  the  Titian  hair  ?  " 

"Do  you  think  she's  as  wonderful  as  all  that?"  said 
Mrs.  Leigh,  and  laughed.  "  And  have  you  been  here  a 
month  and  never  seen  her!  Why — she's  Mrs.  Ducane 
from  over  the  Lake." 

"  Mrs. "Dick    stared    with    dropped   jaw.     He    had 

been  so  certain  of  the  other  name.  So  very  certain  that 
not  even  those  eyes  had  shaken  his  belief. 

Mrs.  Leigh  interpreted  his  amazement  through  the  me- 
dium of  her  own  two  handsome  daughters,  now  married 
"  outside." 

"  Not  a  good  match  for  Ducane,  many  people  think. 
But  they  say  she  has  a  lovely  mind.  There  she  is  going 
out  now,  and  Slicker  with  her.  He  is  like  a  pair  of 
brothers  to  her,  that  boy  is." 

Slicker  brought  the  sleigh  round  the  corner  of  the 
stables ;  saw  Dick  and  bellowed  a  greeting  before  Jennifer 
could  silence  him.  Dick  came  down  with  long  strides,  and 
stood  by  the  sleigh,  and  the  change  in  the  man  startled 
Jennifer.  The  bold  interest  was  gone,  and  the  contemp- 
tuous understanding.  In  voice  and  manner  Dick  carried 
now  all  the  courteous  charm  of  the  elder  days.  And  he 
was  good  to  look  at;  better  than  she  had  thought. 

"  Dick,"  said  Slicker,  with  his  vigorous  thrust-back  of 
conventions.  "  My  cousin's  been  under  the  weather 
lately —  Well,  honey,  you've  looked  like  it,  sure  enough. 
And  I  guess  it  would  be  the  decent  thing  for  you  and 


74  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Tempest  to  come  right  along  and  cheer  her  up.  Don't 
you  want  to  ask  him,  Jennifer?  " 

The  understanding  in  Dick's  grave  smile  pleased  Jenni- 
fer this  time. 

"Slicker's  got  tact,  hasn't  he,  Mrs.  Ducane?"  he  said. 
"  But  Tempest  talked  of  bringing  me  over  some  day.  I'd 
be  glad  to  take  him  your  message  that  you  could  see  us 
this  afternoon." 

The  subtle  flattery;  the  eager  ring  in  the  voice;  Jenni- 
fer's dread  of  a  long  afternoon  of  Slicker's  questions 
swayed  her.  She  gave  the  invitation  with  more  warmth 
than  she  knew,  and  Dick  looked  after  her  as  the  sleigh 
drew  out  of  the  yard.  Slicker's  round  whistle  piped  up  in 
the  pathetic  old  Indian  song: 

"  The  sun  shines  bright  on  pretty  Red-wing ;  " 

and  Dick,  with  the  dazzle  of  Jennifer's  hair  yet  in  his 
eyes,  drew  his  lips  in.  For  he  knew  the  end  of  that  song. 

"  I  was  right  in  calling  those  Cenci  eyes,"  he  said. 
"  She  has  a  way  of  looking  as  though  she  had  to  look  and 
was  afraid  of  what  she  might  show." 

Jennifer  asked  one  question  as  the  sleigh  flew  over 
the  level  lake. 

"  What  is  he  like — that  Mr.  Heriot  ?  "  she  asked. 

Slicker  was  young  enough  to  believe  that,  being  on  the 
verge  of  manhood,  he  knew  all  that  there  was  to  know 
of  men. 

"  Why,  he's  a  real  good  sort,"  he  said.  "  You'll  like 
him,  honey." 

That  afternoon  Tempest  learned  some  more  concerning 
Dick,  and  it  frightened  him.  For  he  read  the  cold-blooded 
purpose  behind  that  courteous  gallantry  which  had  been 
Dick's  heritage  even  at  school.  He  saw  Jennifer  laugh 
and  flush  and  brighten  as  talk  of  pictures  and  music  went 
round,  illumined  by  the  light  wit  which  Dick  knew  so 
well  how  to  use  when  he  chose.  Molson's  words  came 
back  to  Tempest  now  with  terrible  meaning.  Until  this 
hour  he  had  not  foreseen  the  chance  that  Ducane's  young 
wife  might  walk  into  a  deeper  trap  than  that  laid  for  the 
betrayal  of  Ducane.  The  betrayal  of  Ducane?  It  was 


"GRANGE'S    ANDREE"  75 

that,  then?  Tempest  looked  at  Ducane  sitting  bluff  and 
heavily  jovial  against  those  delicate  portiers.  He  looked 
at  Jennifer,  down  on  her  knees  in  the  glow  of  the  open 
fire,  laughing  as  she  quarreled  with  Slicker  over  her  toast- 
making;  and  he  looked  at  Dick,  drawn  a  little  apart,  with 
one  foot  over  his  knee  and  that  shadow  of  absorbed  con- 
templation shut  down  on  his  lean  brown  face.  Tempest 
had  known  that  look  well,  once.  Dick's  sleuth-hound  mind 
was  on  the  trail  again;  here,  in  Ducane's  own  house; 
here,  where  that  little  laughing  wife  was  to  betray  the 
husband. 

He  stood  up  with  the  pulses  closing  in  his  throat.  It 
had  not  seemed  like  that  before;  not  until  he  had  put  it 
outside  his  own  control  by  giving  it  into  Dick's.  What 
was  it  Molson  had  said  of  Dick? 

"  You  can't  whip  him  off  a  trail  once  he  has  sensed 
it" 

If  Tempest  had  forgotten  that  from  the  old  days  he 
knew  it  again  with  one  look  at  that  brooding  face.  But 
he  knew  that  when  he  got  Dick  alone  he  would  try  to  do 
it 

The  horror  of  the  thing  made  his  hand  cold  when  it 
closed  on  Jennifer's  and  his  voice  stammered. 

"  Well — I  had  forgotten.  I  arranged  to  meet  Randal 
from  the  Portage  before  he  went  back.  Why,  yes;  Dick 
can  stay  if  you'll  keep  him.  I'll  walk,  and  I  imagine  I'll 
get  there  as  soon,  for  the  new  snow  has  made  the  surface 
bad  for  sleighing — and  it's  only  a  couple  of  miles,  any- 
way." 

His  senses  were  buzzing  when  he  got  out  the  raw  grey 
day,  and  the  bleak  wind  and  the  weight  of  snow  on  the 
earth  seemed  to  lie  on  his  heart  also.  For  the  first  time 
in  his  life  he  felt  utterly  alone;  stunned  with  beating  his 
head  against  that  awful  mystery  of  the  Why;  broken- 
finger-nailed  with  struggling  to  pick  the  lock  of  it;  blind 
with  the  long  strain  of  trying  to  see  through  it. 

A  priest  went  by,  wrapped  like  a  stone  god  on  his 
sleigh,  with  twinkling  eyes  only  clear.  He  overtook  a 
half-breed  woman  and  carried  her  load  for  her  until  she 
turned  up  a  side-trail  to  her  shack.  And  then  only  the 
wind  crying  in  the  forest  and  the  patter  of  the  blowing 


76  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

frozen  snow  along  the  trail  filled  up  the  infinite  desolate 
silence.  Tempest  felt  tired  to  his  very  soul;  lifeless, 
devitalized,  with  his  whole  world  lying  flat  before  him. 
There  was  no  one  in  all  the  earth  who  could  look  into  his 
eyes  and  give  him  the  sympathy  of  understanding.  No 
one  to  whom  he  could  tell  what  it  meant  to  him  to  see 
the  man  he  still  loved  degrading  the  law  in  the  name  of 
the  law.  He  stood  alone  in  this  infinitely  lonely  life  of 
his.  Alone  with  his  six- fold  weekly  reports;  with  the 
breeds  who  complained  when  their  pigs  were  strayed; 
with  the  white  men  who  complained  when  their  yards  were 
strayed  into.  He  stood  alone  all  the  days  of  his  life, 
with  the  regular  patrols,  the  settlement  of  tittle  sordid 
matters,  the  suggestion  of  law  and  order  which  he  carried 
on  his  own  body  where  he  went.  For  him  there  was  no 
wife  to  make  the  whole  world  suddenly  bright  with  her 
presence;  no  rosy  little  son  in  the  cot  to  which  a  man 
tip-toes  on  unshod  feet;  no  home-light  other  than  Poley's 
lamp  to  call  to  him. 

These  are  some  of  the  prices  which  men  pay  for  the 
furtherment  of  Empire,  and  until  this  hour  Tempest  had 
been  proud  that  he  was  paying  them.  Now  he  trod  on 
with  depression  bowing  his  shoulders,  for  this  contemp- 
lated sin  of  Dick's  seemed  to  foul  the  whole  work  and 
shame  it. 

Then  he  looked  up  idly,  and  far  down  the  streak  of 
trail  he  saw  her  running — running  straight  into  his  sight 
and  his  life  and  his  heart,  unhesitating,  unknowing.  She 
ran  with  the  long  easy  Indian  lope,  and  she  was  white 
as  the  winter  ermine  and  nearly  as  lithe  in  her  long  fur* 
coat  and  her  round  fur  cap  with  the  ear-pieces. 

A  young  moose  slung  beside  her  with  long  fiddle-head 
and  loose  lips  up,  sniffing  the  taint  of  man.  She  came 
like  the  strange  wild  breath  that  blows  in  the  forest, 
God  only  knew  why  and  where  and  how,  and  within  a 
man's  length  of  Tempest  the  moose  propped  stiffly,  making 
little  complaining  cries  like  a  child.  The  girl  flung  an 
arm  over  the  rough  crest,  and  the  two  looked  at  Tempest 
with  the  wide  wild  soft  eyes  of  the  forest-born.  The  girl 
was  tall  and  straight.  Black  hair  crisped  in  curls  round 
the  olive  oval  face  where  Tempest  did  not  notice  the 


"GRANGE'S    ANDREE"  77 

faint,  uneradicable  stamp  of  the  high  cheek-bones.  He 
was  watching  the  red  curve  of  the  lips,  and  the  perfect 
chin  where  the  cap-tie  went. 

The  moose  backed,  scrabbling  its  splay  feet  in  the  snow, 
and  Tempest  spoke  like  a  man  suddenly  waked. 

"  J — I   beg  your  pardon.     You  were  in  a  hurry " 

"No,"  said  the  girl.  "  I  was  just  pretending  to  be  the 
wind."  Her  voice  was  grave.  For  though  she  was  used 
to  have  men  look  at  her,  Life  had  not  taken  her  among 
those  who  looked  as  Tempest  looked  now. 

"  For  God's  sake,"  he  said  and  moved  forward.  "  Who 
are  you  ? " 

"  I  am  Grange's  Andree,"  she  said. 

The  name  meant  nothing  to  Tempest,  for  Dick  had  not 
thought  fit  to  speak  of  O'Hara's  private  feelings.  The 
girl  whipped  off  her  mitten;  swept  up  a  handful  of  snow, 
and  rubbed  vigorously  at  Tempest's  cheek  with  the  colour 
breaking  on  her  face  and  her  warm  breath  over  him. 

"  Frost-bite,"  she  exclaimed.  And  then  Tempest  took 
her  stiffened  hand  between  his  and  brought  life  back  to  it 
with  an  energy  that  set  her  to  laughing  such  a  rollicking 
care-free  laugh  that  Tempest  laughed  too,  unknowing  why 
any  more  than  he  knew  of  the  Indian  taint  in  her  or  of 
the  wild  drop  that  called  to  sky  and  wind  and  was  never 
content  with  the  earth. 

"  Bo'  soir,  M'sieu,"  she  cried  suddenly ;  pulled  free, 
whistled  the  moose  in  the  high  bell-note  that  would  call 
him  later  from  his  kind  in  the  forest,  and  fled  down  the 
track  like  the  wind  she  had  pretended  to  be.  And 
Tempest  went  home  with  that  awakened  look  yet  in  his 
eyes. 

Andree  corralled  the  moose  in  the  hotel-lot;  fed  it  with 
green  branches  sliced  down  from  spruce  and  cedar,  and 
flung  herself  on  the  hard-wood  sofa  in  the  corner  of  the 
little  back  eating-room  at  Grange's.  She  thrust  her  cap 
back,  idly  watching  Grange's  half-breed  wife  roll  her  fat 
bulk  to  the  kitchen  and  back  with  plates  of  smoking  meat, 
with  hot  biscuits  and  with  babies  of  various  ages  and 
sexes  which  she  set  about  as  indifferently  as  she  set  the 
plates  of  meat.  They  lay  or  sat,  according  to  their  size, 
staring  on  their  small  world  of  smoked  log  ceiling  and 


78  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

rough  walls;  and  suddenly  Andree  reached  her  long  arms, 
swung  a  child  up  by  its  clothes  and  held  it  close,  crooning 
over  it. 

"  Mon  bebe,"  she  said.     "  Ah,  mon  bebe." 

It  took  no  interest  in  her  kisses,  and  presently  she  tired 
of  it,  letting  it  roll  back  on  the  floor  where  it  lay  scream- 
ing until  its  mother  stopped  its  mouth  with  a  shred  of 
moosemeat. 

"  It's  so  sore  peety  you  no  mak'  marree  down  in  Calgary, 
Andree,"  she  expostulated. 

Andree  looked  long  at  the  fat,  greasy,  good-humoured 
face;  at  the  high  cheek-bones  and  the  twinkling  beady 
eyes,  and  the  black  coarse  hair  sleeked  down  behind  the 
ears.  This  woman  was  distant  kin  to  her;  but  she  felt 
neither  love  nor  disgust  at  the  knowledge. 

"  Do  you  like  to  be  married,  Moosta  ?  "  she  said. 

"  It  is  goot  to  haf  one  man  work  for  me,"  said  Moosta 
calmly. 

"Bien!  I  like  two  boy  better  than  one — and  three 
boy  better  than  two."  Andree  drew  basin  and  spoon  to 
her  and  began  her  meal.  "  Mais — one  man  all  the  time!  '* 
she  said,  and  lifted  her  shoulders. 

Moosta  pulled  the  last  baby  into  her  capacious  lap. 

"  Mebbe  you  no  hear  dey  mak'  burree  O'Hara  to-day," 
she  said. 

"What?" 

The  word  was  sharp  as  a  box  on  the  ears.  It  fluttered 
the  gentle  Moosta. 

"  It  was  s'pose  he  dead,"  she  explained  apologetically. 

Andree  shivered  away  as  though  she  had  touched  some- 
thing clammy  and  very  cold. 

"Akaweya!  Do  not  say  it  to  me!  Non!  Non!  I 
did  not  make  him  dead.  I  will  forget  it.  Astum,  Eu- 
stace. Come,  petit  napasis.  We  will  sing.  We  will 
dance." 

She  swept  up  a  three-year-old  who  had  inherited 
Grange's  eternal  giggle,  and  whirled  through  the  room 
with  him,  chanting  a  song  of  the  lumber-camps. 

*'  Derrier  chez  nous,  ya-t-un  etang, 
En  roulant  ma  boule. 


"GRANGE'S    ANDREE"  79 

Trois  beaux  canards  s'en  bout  baignant, 

En  roulant  ma  boule. 
Eouli,  roulant,  ma  boule  rou " 

Here  Grange  came  in,  and  she  thrust  an  arm  through 
his;  dancing  the  wild  free  step  with  flung-back  head  and 
knees  bent. 

"  Rouli,  roulant ;  ma  boule  roulant 

En  roulant  ma  boule  roulant. 
En    .    .    .    roulant  ma  boule." 

She  loosed  Grange  as  suddenly  as  she  had  caught  him;' 
tossed  Eustace  into  his  astonished  arms,  and  stood  with 
hands  on  hips,  swaying  and  buzzing  the  air  between  laugh- 
ing lips. 

"  My,"  said  Grange,  and  let  his  son  slide  out  of  his  arms. 
"  I  guess  you're  feelin'  good,  Andree." 

"  Wah,  wah,"  said  Moosta,  with  her  little  eyes  puzzled. 
"  I  mak'  say  dey  burree  O'Hara " 

Andree  wheeled  and  her  big  eyes  shot  fire. 

"  Tais'-vous,"  she  screamed.  "  Shut  up !  There  is  not 
O'Hara  any  more.  He  is  gone.  We  forget  him.  Qa,  ga. 
We  no  speak  of  death.  It  is  stupid.  C'est  abominable. 
I  hate  you,  Moosta." 

"  Sakes ;  you've  sure  got  your  temper  still,"  said  Grange 
with  a  strangled  giggle. 

"  Bah !  That  is  not  to  be  angry,"  said  Andree  indiffer- 
ently. 

She  walked  back  to  the  table  and  went  on  with  her 
soup.  Presently  she  glanced  up  with  the  wild-animal  look 
gone  out  of  her  eyes  before  demureness. 

"  Now  I  am  come  home  I  will  wait  at  table  in  the  din- 
ing-room," she  said  in  her  best  English. 

Grange  and  his  wife  crossed  troubled  glances.  Then 
Moosta  spoke. 

"  Tapwa.  You  no  like  s'pose  3ey  go  off  rud.e  wit  you, 
Andree." 

"  Sure."  Grange  caught  the  suggestion  eagerly.  "  You 
let  that  right  alone,  Andree.  There's  some  raises  per- 
tickler  Cain  o*  times.  I  tell  you  it's  fierce." 


80  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  But  I  want  to,"  and  Andree  softly,  and  the  two  were 
silenced.  They  knew  Andree. 

Later,  when  Moosta  had  the  last  baby  on  her  knees, 
preparing  it  for  the  moss-bag  in  which  generations  of  her 
forefathers  had  grown  their  tall,  shapely  limbs,  Andree 
brought  her  glowing  face  to  the  baby's  level;  chuckling 
and  cooing  with  it  as  the  fat  vague  hands  tangled  the 
curls  over  her  eyes  and  dabbed  at  the  laughing  lips. 
Grange,  smoking  his  pale  acrid  tobacco  in  his  seat  by 
the  stove,  watched  the  two  women  in  tolerant  pride  as 
their  broken  words  came  to  him. 

"  My  petit  daughter/'  crowed  Moosta.  "  Ah,  netanis ; 
ne  waspasoo  owasis." 

"  Mais  elle  n'est  pas  dans  le  moss-bag  yet,"  struck  in 
Andree's  vivid  tones.  "  See  her  toes  curl  like  the  young 
fern-shoots." 

She  stopped  to  kiss  the  soft  brown,  small  things.  And 
then  Robison  followed  his  knock  into  the  room,  and  looked 
down  on  them.  He  was  of  Moosta's  tribe,  and  he  had 
known  Andree  all  her  days.  And  into  his  eyes  as  he  looked 
came  something  that  made  him  great  and  noble  for  the 
moment.  It  passed,  swift  and  sharp ;  for  though  a  man 
needs  love  to  make  him  human,  he  is  often  most  inhuman 
when  he  loves. 

"  You  rustle  around  out  o'  that,  Andree,"  he  said.  "  I 
guess  you  ain't  forgot  you  was  wantin'  to  play  cards  wi' 
me  an'  Ogilvie." 

"  What'll  Ogilvie  do  if  I  don't  play  with  him?"  asked 
the  girl,  and  pressed  her  lips  again  to  the  baby  flesh. 

"  I  reckon  he'll  feel  injured,"  said  Robison  dryly. 

"  What  will  you  do  ?  " 

"  You  are  wantin'  to  play  wi'  me,"  said  Robison. 

He  spoke  quietly,  but  again  there  was  that  suggestion 
of  primitive  force.  The  primitive  in  her  answered  to  it 
at  once.  She  pushed  back  her  crisping  hair  and  stood  up. 

"  Call  Ogilvie  in,"  she  said.  "  Got  any  cards  in  that 
drawer,  Charlie?  " 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Grange,  and  tipped  his  chair  back 
and  jerked  the  drawer  open.  "  Two  decks,"  he  said. 
"  Good  'nough  for  a  love-game,  Andree." 

Ogilvie  heard  from  the  door.     He  was  yet  enough  of 


"GRANGE'S    ANDREE"  81 

the  English  gentleman  to  make  his  bemused  laugh  a 
tragedy  to  those  who  could  read  it. 

"  Quite  so,"  he  said.  "  And  what  more  would  a  man 
play  for  with  Andree  as  partner  ?  " 

"  By  gar ;  you  soon  find  I  play  for  the  dollars/'  said 
Andree,  and  flung  the  cards  on  the  table.  "  Pile  in,  boys. 
Here,  Charlie — Oh,  I'm  playing  with  you,  eh?  Damn! " 

She  took  the  tone  of  those  about  her  unconsciously  and 
faithfully  as  a  mirror,  and  her  soft  face  hardened  like  the 
man-faces  as  the  dirty  bills  showed  on  the  table.  But  for 
Ogilvie  the  game  was  not  upon  the  table.  Twice  his  arm 
slid  round  Andree's  waist  and  was  repulsed.  The  third 
time  she  looked  at  Robison. 

"  Pick  him  off,"  she  said,  as  a  child  might  say  of  an 
insect. 

Then  Robison  saw;  and  he  came  to  his  feet  with  shaggy 
forehead  and  red  eyes  lowering  like  the  buffalo  of  his  own 
land.  Ogilvie  took  the  hint  and  his  departure,  leaving 
two  dollars  of  his  money  on  the  table.  Grange  rolled  it 
up. 

"  Hands  off,  Andree,"  he  said.  "  I  guess  he's  gotter 
have  this  back."  He  rubbed  his  nose,  staring  at  her. 
"  You  sure  are  a  hornet,"  he  said.  "  What  you  want  to 
go  spoil  our  game  f  er,  eh  ?  " 

"  I  guess  there  are  others,"  said  Andree  indifferently. 
"  Go  look  in  the  bar." 

Grange  went  out,  and  Robison  stooped  to  the  girl.  And 
in  the  shadows  beyond  Moosta  crooned  a  placid  Cree 
lullaby  to  her  baby. 

"  You're  carin'  for  me  now  ?  "  said  Robison,  and  his 
rough  voice  shook  with  feeling.  "  Andree,  you're  carin' 
for'  me  now  ?  " 

Her  eyes  dilated.     She  leaned  forward  to  him. 

"  I  not  know  what  it  means,"  she  whispered.  "  I  can- 
not understand.  I  cannot  know." 

Again  that  look  quivered  over  the  coarse,  earthy  face. 

"  You  ain't  learnt  what  it  means  fer  another  man,"  he 
said.  "  I  reckon  I  kin  wait  so  long's  you  don't  do 
that" 

But  all  a  woman's  desire  to  touch  beyond  her  reach  was 
in  Andree. 


82  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"Suppose  I  no  can  help  doing  that?"  she  asked,  and 
the  breed's  face  blackened  to  sudden  anger. 

"  By ,  you'll  sure  have  to  help  it,"  he  said  violently. 

But  Andree  gave  no  answer.  Her  eyes  were  taking  on 
the  wide-wild-animal  fear  again.  For  she  was  thinking 
of  Tempest  who  had  looked  at  her  as  no  man  had  looked 
at  her  before.  She  did  not  know  the  look  for  reverence; 
but  Tempest  did.  Sitting  in  his  office  through  the  silent 
hours  he  knew  that  he  thought  of  Andree  as  a  man  thinks 
of  the  woman  whom  he  desires  to  make  his  wife.  Under 
the  knowledge  of  this  his  face  was  changing.  It  wore 
more  the  serenity  of  a  man  who  sees  home  before  him  than 
the  strenuousness  that  follows  the  gleam  of  a  star  up  the 
heights. 

From  a  practical  point  of  view  there  was  every  reason 
why  Tempest  should  marry.  He  was  thirty-seven,  and 
love  had  filtered  very  sparsely  through  his  years.  He  be- 
lieved that  his  Inspectorship  was  sure  in  the  near  future. 
He  was  lonely — and  every  man  needs  human  love  to  round 
and  ripen  his  life. 

"  Besides,"  he  said,  and  looked  on  the  inchoate  well- 
smudge  that  was  maps  and  memoranda  only,  "  I  think  it 
is  taken  out  of  my  hands,  somehow." 

He  got  up,  treading  the  room  with  his  light  virile  step. 
But  the  dreamer-light  in  his  eyes  was  not  the  same.  He 
had  given  his  love  to  an  intangible  thing;  to  the  great 
West  that  was  and  would  be.  An  hour  had  made  it  con- 
crete in  the  shape  of  a  woman ;  but  he  did  not  think  how 
much  would  be  lost  or  won  through  it.  And  he  had  for- 
gotten the  word  of  a  great  one  of  the  earth,  "  No  man 
can  serve  two  masters." 

Dick's  step  passed  in  the  passage,  and  Tempest  opened 
the  door  with  his  mind  closed  like  a  steel  trap  on  the  pres- 
ent moment  of  duty. 

"  Come  in  here  a  minute/'  he  said.  Then,  facing  the 
other  in  the  lamplight,  he  added,  "  Don't  you  think  you 
can  get  through  by  fighting  a  man  in  the  open  ?  " 

Dick  looked  at  him  curiously. 

"  Does  she  mean  more  to  you  than  another  woman  ?  " 
he  said. 

Tempest   stared.     And,   suddenly   and   very   vividly,   it 


"GRANGE'S    ANDREE"  83 

burst  on  him  how  far,  how  marvellously  far,  he  had  tra- 
velled since  he  last  saw  Jennifer.  He  laughed,  exultantly, 
as  becomes  a  man  who  had  just  discovered  for  himself 
something  that  is  very  new  and  hidden,  and  very  sweet. 

"No"  he  said.  "But  don't  you  understand,  you  owl? 
I  can't  eat  a  man's  bread  and  betray  him." 

"  Oh !  "  The  short  laugh  held  contempt.  "  Well,  I 
can;  especially  when  the  man  is  Ducane."  He  sat  down, 
crossing  his  arms  on  the  chair-back.  "  In  an  album  of 
Mrs.  Ducane's  I  found  two  photographs  of  our  wonderful 
West  which  I  had  seen  before — in  one  of  those  pros- 
pectuses that  old  man  from  Tennessee  showed  us  last 
week,"  he  said. 

"  You  don't  mean  that !  " 

"  I  mean  it  very  certainly.  Ducane  is  the  man  at  this 
end  of  the  string." 

Tempest  walked  through  the  room  in  agitation. 

"  Even  so,  I  hate  to  have  you  do  it  this  way,"  he 
said. 

"My  dear  fellow,  with  a  good  object  in  view  it  is  al- 
lowable to  stretch  a  point  occasionally.  I  don't  pretend 
to  be  very  moral  or  very  nice  in  my  methods,  or  very 
honest,  you  know.  But  I  have  never  shirked  settling  day 
yet,  and  if  this  matter  puts  me  in  a  corner  I  hope  I  won't 
shirk  it  then.  But  I  intend  that  it  shall  put  Ducane  in 
the  corner  instead.  He  won't  be  very  pretty  when  he  gets 
here,  either.  1  have  a  notion  that  he'll  cry." 

"  Dick,  I  can't  allow  this.  It  is  degrading  our  work  to 
do  it  this  way." 

"  It  is  only  when  we  cease  to  recognise  degradation  that 
it  becomes  complete.  You  may  recognise  it  all  you  like, 
Tempest,  but  you  will  leave  me  alone  here.  You  gave  me  a 
free  hand,  and  I  am  going  to  take  it.  This  case  is  big 
enough  to  make  me  if  I  pull  it  off." 

"  And  you'll  sell  your  honour  for  that  ?  " 

"  I  could  not  sell  my  honour  at  all — for  obvious  reasons. 
You  know  that  I  have  the  blackest  sheet  in  the  Force  and 
perhaps  the  best  record  for  the  kind  of  work  that  some 
men  don't  care  about  touching.  What  those  widows  and1 
maiden  ladies  and  doddering  old  men  are  doing  about  this 
company  which  has  corralled  them,  I  can't  say.  But  I 


84  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

know  what  I  am  going  to  do.  And  you  will  leave  me  to 
do  it.  You  are  not  my  master  in  this." 

His  voice  was  still  quiet  and  rather  slow.  But  the 
amused  indifference  had  gone  out  of  it.  Tempest  recog- 
nised the  truth.  Dick's  mind  was  on  the  trail  and  he 
would  not  be  whipped  off  it. 

"  You  have  changed  more  than  I  ever  thought  you 
would,"  he  said. 

"  Possibly."  Dick  stood  up,  stretching  his  long  limbs. 
"  It  was  one  of  that  sex  which  you  are  being  so  extremely 
fastidious  about  who  was  responsible  in  the  first  place, 
as  you  may  remember.  Oh,  I  don't  owe  her  any  grudge. 
I  have  had  my  fun,  as  I  said.  And  I  am  going  to  take 
this  thing  through — also  as  I  said." 

He  lay  awake  long  that  night,  assorting  such  facts  as 
he  knew.  They  were  not  many,  but  the  very  difficulty  of 
the  whole  complicated  matter  delighted  him.  Jennifer 
knew  nothing  of  it.  That  was  sure.  And  Slicker  knew 
nothing.  Their  innocence  would  help  him  infinitely.  Al- 
ready he  understood  Ducane.  The  man  was  false  and  dis- 
honourable right  through,  but  he  was  also  a  coward.  Robi- 
son  he  knew  very  little  of.  The  man  kept  clear  of  the 
barracks  and  the  policeman,  and  any  overtures  had  been 
met  with  dislike  and  suspicion.  Now  Dick  decided  to  try 
another  way.  Rage  would  show  the  breed's  elemental  na- 
ture more  completely  than  anything  else.  It  would  be 
easy  to  touch  him  there,  and  Dick  was  never  afraid  of 
consequences.  He  went  to  sleep  on  that  with  the  twitch- 
ing smile  on  his  lips  which  Grey  Wolf  had  already  come 
to  regard  with  suspicion. 

A  week  later  he  put  his  decision  into  force  on  a  night 
of  wild  storm  and  eddying  snow.  The  timber-lined  mess- 
room  at  the  barracks  was  warm  that  night,  and  bright 
with  the  coal-oil  lamps  and  the  red  glow  from  the  stove 
where  Kennedy  swung  the  door  open.  Men  going  by  saw 
the  gleam  over  the  picket- fence,  and  drifted  in,  one  by  one; 
leaving  puddles  of  melting  snow  as  calling-cards  for  Poley 
over  the  kitchen-floor,  and  disturbing  Dick  and  Kennedy 
where  they  strove  to  make  up  a  half-year's  arrears  with 
needle  and  thread  on  more  or  less  wrecked  garments. 

The  varied  degrees  of  men  among  which  Dick's  life  was 


"GRANGE'S    ANDREE"  85 

thrown  interested  him  always.  But  to-night  he  welcomed 
them  with  special  graciousness.  One  of  them  would  serve 
his  need  before  the  night  was  out.  He  glanced  over  them, 
wondering  where  his  choice  would  fall.  There  was  Og- 
ilvie,  pinched  and  shakily  conscious  that  he  was  an  old 
man  in  his  youth.  There  was  Lampard,  the  cheerful 
commonplace  Canadian  in  the  Hudson  Bay  Store.  There 
was  Slicker;  Parrett,  the  new  Dissenting  minister;  Hein- 
mann,  a  German  boy  travelling  through  to  Peace  River; 
and  Falconer  from  Lac  La  Biche.  They  drowsed  and 
talked  and  smoked  in  their  steaming  clothes,  with  the 
smell  of  cast  furs  in  the  corner  growing  stronger  as  the 
heat  increased. 

Dick,  pulling  a  thread  as  long  as  his  arm,  broke  sud- 
denly into  song,  with  the  elements  riding  their  Valkyrie 
gallop  outside. 

"  King  Charles,  and  who'll  do  him  right  now  ? 
King  Charles,  and  who's  ripe  for  fight  now? 
Give  a  rouse:  here's  in  Hell's  despite  now. 
King  Charles !  " 

The  outer  door  burst  open,  and  a  blast  of  icy  wind 
licked  past  Robison  as  he  stood  on  the  sill  with  his  shoul- 
ders peppered  with  snow. 

"  Sergeant  home  yet?  "  he  asked,  and  slammed  the  door 
in  obedience  to  a  tenfold  command. 

"  No,"  said  Dick.     "  Do  you  want  anything?  " 

Robison  intimated  that  he  did;  and  Dick  went  through 
with  him  to  the  little  court-room,  gave  the  special  bit  of 
information  required,  ripped  some  memo-forms  off  the 
block,  and  noted  on  his  way  back  that  Robison  stumbled 
on  Ogilvie's  out-thrust  feet  and  shot  him  a  perfectly  un- 
explainable  look  of  fury  in  reply  to  Ogilvie's  apology. 

"  There  is  something  the  matter  here,"  said  his  unflag- 
ging-brain. But  he  continued  his  song  untroubled  as  he 
shut  Robison  out  in  the  night. 

"  Who  helped  me  to  gold  I  spent  since  ? 
Who  found  me  in  wine  you  drank  once  ?  " 


86  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

"  And  that  we  never  did/'  said  Lampard.  "  Though 
you  appear  to  be  bearing  up  under  it." 

"  Just  as  well  as  the  H.  B.  C.  is  bearing  up  under  the 
knowledge  that  it  has  lost  its  significance,"  agreed  Dick. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  demanded  Lampard,  instantly  afire  for 
the  honour  of  his  world-known  firm. 

"  Why "  Dick  laid  a  piece  of  leather  over  a  rubbed 

place  in  the  leg  of  his  riding-breeches  with  care.  "  The 
Hudson  Bay  Company  spread  everywhere  before  the  mis- 
sionary, and  thereby  earned  the  right  to  call  themselves 
'  Here  before  Christ.'  Now  a  missionary  has  got  into  some 
place  near  Herschel  ahead  of  them,  and  consequently  the 
Company  is  doomed." 

Lampard  was  aroused  to  an  exhortation  on  the  staying 
powers  of  the  Company,  and  Dick  finished  his  work  and 
turned  to  make  a  drawing  on  the  backs  of  those  memoran- 
dum forms  which  carry  the  full  title  of  the  Police  on  the 
front  of  them. 

"  I  saw  a  wood-buffalo  on  the  Twin  Hill  trail  to-day 
just  after  you  passed,  Parrett,"  he  said.  "  You  saw  the 
tracks  of  it,  of  course  ?  " 

Parrett  was  the  youthful  Dissenting  minister  fresh  from 
Winnipeg,  and  he  knew  that  his  first  duty  towards  these 
outcasts  was  to  convince  them  of  his  ultimate  knowledge. 
He  was  the  only  man  there  who  was  ignorant  of  the  fact 
that  wood-buffalo  fed  neither  so  far  west  or  south  by 
some  hundreds  of  miles,  and  he  fell  into  the  trap  in- 
stantly. 

"  Why,  certainly,"  he  said.  "  I  saw  the  tracks.  Plenty 
of  them." 

"  Ah.  I  saw  the  buffalo  itself.  How  big  would  you 
take  it  to  be  by  the  spore?"  asked  Dick,  bringing  out 
bold  sweeps  on  the  paper. 

"  Why  sure ;  they  were — I  guess  I  didn't  measure  them." 

"  Do  you  think  they  would  fit  an  animal  of  about  this 
size?" 

Dick  flicked  his  sketch  into  the  group  round  the  stove, 
and  sat  unmoved  under  the  comments.  Ogilvie  sucked  his 
lips  in. 

"  I  fancy  Mr.  Robison  will  want  to  kill  you  if  ever  he 
sees  this,"  he  said. 


"GRANGE'S    ANDREE"  87 

"  You  can  show  him  if  you  feel  like  it,"  said  Dick 
placidly. 

The  buffalo  in  the  black  sharp  lines  of  the  sketch  wore 
Robison's  little  red  eyes  and  shaggy  mane  of  thick  hair. 
It  had  Robison's  slight  deformity,  magnified  into  an  or- 
dinary buffalo  hump,  and  it  waded  up  to  its  hocks  in  mud. 
Ogilvie  folded  it  with  remembrance  of  that  night  with 
Andree  in  Grange's  back-parlour  stirring  in  him. 

"  We'll  see  how  Robison  likes  it,"  he  said. 

Slicker  snatched  at  it  and  missed  it. 

"  Oh,  you  make  me  tired,  Ogilvie,"  he  said.  "  Tear  it 
up.  What  did  you  give  it  to  him  for,  Dick?  You  know 
what  Robison  is." 

This  was  precisely  what  Dick  did  not  know.  But  if 
that  sketch  went  where  he  intended  he  expected  to  find 
out.  Robison  was  useless  at  present,  but  he  might  make 
a  valuable  enemy. 

"Slicker  hardly  does  justice  to  an  artist's  natural  con- 
ceit," he  said.  "  I  want  to  know  if  Robison  recognises  it. 
Be  sure  you  show  him,  Ogilvie." 

"  Certainly.  But  so  sure  as  God  made  little  apples 
I  think  he'll  try  to  kill  you  for  it,"  said  Ogilvie ;  and  pres- 
ently he  got  up  and  went  his  way  into  the  storm. 

Dick  drew  another  sheet  towards  him  and  went  on 
sketching  idly.  And  this  time  his  song  had  the  old  stately, 
deep-sea  tread: 

"  Good-night  to  you,  Spanish  ladies. 
Good-night  to  you,  ladies  of  Spain," 

and  the  face  which  he  drew  in  the  shadow  of  his  curved 
hand  was  the  face  of  Ducane's  wife. 

Parret's  high  nasal  voice  cut  sharply  into  the  song. 

Dick  glanced  up  at  the  German  boy  who  puffed  his 
little  cigarette  at  the  ceiling,  unmoved  by  Parrett's  wrath. 

"  That  last  epithet  is  at  once  your  excuse  and  your 
condemnation,"  he  said.  "  What  have  you  been  doing, 
Heinmann  ?  " 

"  I  say  all  clever  men  are  immoral,"  explained  the  Ger- 
man boy.  He  contemplated  Dick.  "Are  you  moral?" 
he  asked.  "  I  think  you  do  not  look  it." 


88  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Dick  accepted  the  compliment  modestly. 

"  Some  day  you  will  speak  of  your  kind  with  more  re- 
spect," he  suggested. 

"  But  I  hope  not,"  said  Heinmann.  "  For  respect  does 
not  mean  love  in  your  language,  and  I  hope  to  love  all 
ladies — always." 

An  appreciative  laugh  sprang  into  Dick's  eyes.  Then 
he  .glanced  at  the  girl-face  in  the  shadow  of  his  hand. 
And  then  he  jerked  the  stove  door  open;  crumpled  the 
sheet,  and  thrust  it  in. 

"  Respect  may  not  mean  love  in  your  language,  Hein- 
mann," he  said  dryly.  "  But  love  means  respect,  and  I'll 
trouble  you  to  remember  that." 

And  yet,  when  they  were  gone,  and  when  Kennedy  had 
toiled  with  his  armful  of  derelicts  up  to  bed,  Dick  sat  with 
his  arms  on  the  table,  and  laughed  a  low  laugh  with  no 
mirth  in  it. 

"  How  very  easy  it  is  to  humbug  others,"  he  said. 
"  What  a  pity  it  is  not  so  easy  to  humbug  oneself." 

The  ring  of  alert  feet  came  down  the  passage,  and  Tem- 
pest thrust  open  the  door. 

"Ah!  You've  got  it  warmer  in  here,"  he  said.  "I'm 
frozen  stiff  as  boards." 

He  jerked  off  his  gloves  and  rubbed  his  hands  before 
the  stove,  laughing  cheerfully.  He  brought  a  changed  at- 
mosphere into  the  room  which  Dick's  thoughts  had  made 
sordid;  an  atmosphere  pure  almost  to  austerity,  yet  gay 
and  quick  and  eager,  and  a  deep  light  shone  in  his  eyes 
which  was  strange  to  Dick  in  its  content.  For  Tempest 
had  been  over  to  the  English  Mission,  and  there  he  had 
seen  Andree  for  five  minutes  that  it  tingled  his  blood  to 
remember. 

"  How's  Blake  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Did  you  get  him  to  do 
any  work  to-day  ?  " 

"Well,  I  did,"  Dick  smiled  blandly.  "He  intimated 
that  he  was  too  crippled  with  rheumatism.  So  I  stretched 
him  and  rubbed  him  until  I  fancy  he  understands  me  a 
little  better.  He  chopped  half-a-cord  of  wood  after  that, 
and  was  willing  to  do  more  if  I'd  ordered  it." 

Tempest  looked     at  him  with  puckered  brows. 

"  There  are  ways  of  doing  things "  he  suggested. 


"GRANGE'S    ANDREE"  89 

"  I  know.  And  I  know  Blake.  When  you  have  to  do 
sentry-go  over  a  skunk  you  must  treat  him  like  a  skunk. 
It's  an  insult  to  his  powers  to  do  anything  else.  He'll 
sleep  well  to-night — and  so  will  I." 

He  yawned,  lying  back  in  his  chair.  The  day  of  both 
men  had  been  hard ;  filled  to  the  brim  with  the  numberless 
common  little  things  which  knit  up  the  great  whole.  For 
it  is  on  the  anvil  of  the  common  things  that  human  nature 
is  ordained  to  be  hammered  out  and  toughened  for  the 
tests  of  life. 

Tempest  went  on  to  his  office;  but  a  little  later  he  put 
his  head  out,  and  called  Dick  up  the  passage.  Dick  came, 
yawning  still. 

"  Did  you  take  any  papers  out  of  the  court-room  just 
now  ?  "  asked  Tempest. 

"  No.     Lost  anything?  " 

"  I  could  gamble  I  left  it  here,"  said  Tempest,  sifting  a 
handful  on  the  desk.  "  Didn't  light  your  pipe  with  any  of 
this,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you — why — I  took  a  couple  of  memo-forms. 
But  they  were  blank." 

"  The  top  side  of  the  under  one  had  my  writing  on  it. 
What  did  you  do  with  them  ?  " 

"  Burnt  one.  Sketched  Robison  on  the  other,  and 
Ogilvie  took  it  out  to  show  him  about  two  hours 
ago." 

The  deep  lines  came  round  Tempest's  jaw.  He  stood 
still. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Dick,  and  his  eyes  narrowed.  "  Hit  out. 
Don't  be  shy." 

"  Paul  was  in  this  morning  about  some  freighting.  He 
happened  to  remark  that  a  breed  on  the  Peace  who  took 
land  about  six  months  ago  had  sold  to  Robison.  He  said 
that  Robison  had  been  buying  in  several  places  lately. 
Evidently  people  are  commenting  on  it.  I  took  down  the 
heads  of  what  he  told  me  in  pencil  on  the  memo-book.  It 
wasn't  much,  but  it  would  explain  to  those  two  that  they 
are  being  watched " 

Dick  lifted  his  shoulders. 

"  My  luck,"  he  said.  Then  he  turned ;  went  up  the 
stairs  two  at  a  time,  and  came  back  in  his  outer  clothes. 


90  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  I'm  after  Ogilvie,"  he  shouted,  and  was  gone  with  the 
slam  of  the  door. 

Wrath  at  the  thought  that  he  might  be  foiled  in  this 
special  work  of  his  hurried  him  out  where  the  wind  caught 
him  with  its  full  blast  across  the  hills,  stinging  his  face 
with  hard  snow.  He  drove  against  it  with  his  head  low; 
cut  across  a  side-trail  to  the  shack  in  the  cotton-woods 
which  Ogilvie  shared  with  Hotchkiss;  found  it  empty,  and 
battled  back  to  Grange's,  where  Jimmy  was  settling  the 
bar  for  the  night. 

"Seen  Ogilvie?"  he  gasped,  and  reeled  in  the  sudden 
calm  that  loosed  his  sinews  after  the  buffeting. 

"  Gee ! "  said  Jimmy,  and  suspended  his  operations. 
"What's  doing?  Murder  or  suicide?" 

"  Be  easy.  You're  not  accused  yet."  The  temper  in 
Dick  woke  at  the  clink  of  the  bottles.  "  Give  me  a 
whiskey  straight,"  he  ordered.  "  Seen  Ogilvie?  " 

"  Sure.     He  was  around  right  after  supper " 

"  He  was  at  the  barracks  since  then.  Where  now?  Hit 
her  up." 

"  My,"  said  Jimmy  admiringly.  "  You  sure  are  a  hust- 
ler." He  leaned  on  the  counter  and  reflected.  "  He's 
likely  in  the  back  parlour  with  Andree,"  he  said.  "  He's 
crazy  for  her.  Eh?  Well-1-1;  I  guess!  Or  maybe  he's 
met  the  doctor  some  place  an*  is  standin*  under  shelter 
tryin'  ter  git  enough  English  out  of  him  to  know  if  what 
he's  got  the  matter  wi'  him  is  a  stomach-ache  or  heart- 
disease.  But  I  guess  he's  jes'  sleepin'  it  off  some  place. 
Oh,  I  tell  you;  he's  sure  over  to  the  English  Mission. 
He's  been  along  there  three  times  since  doc.  told  him  he 
was  a-dyin'  man.  But  I  imagine  he  ain't  wuth  findin*. 
He  is  the  biggest  toad  in  the  puddle,  anyway." 

Having  quartered  Ogilvie  to  his  satisfaction  he  fell  to 
work  again.  Dick  glanced  into  the  back-parlour.  Then 
he  went  on,  with  the  wind  screaming  in  the  tortured 
branches  that  whipped  the  bare  poles,  and  the  whiskey 
and  the  hot  blood  rising  in  him  to  fight  the  bitter 
cold. 

In  the  lonely  forest-trail  near  the  Mission  he  saw  some- 
thing dark  swerve  aside  from  the  snow-line  and  crouch 
in  the  trees.  He  sprang  at  it  as  the  tuft-eared  lynx 


"  GRANGE'S    ANDREE"  91 

springs;  jerked  it  up  by  the  arm,  ahd  bit  off  the  oath 
on  his  lips. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Andree?  "  he  demanded. 

He  had  first  seen  Grange's  Andree  when  she  was  los- 
ing money  to  some  men  in  Grange's  back-parlour.  Be- 
sides, respect  for  his  kind  was  not  natural  growth  with  him, 
and  what  he  had  had  was  long  since  gone.  He  shook  her. 

"  Stop  laughing,  you  imp,"  he  said.  "  What  are  you 
doing  out  here  ?  " 

She  swayed  in  his  grip;  tall  and  vivid  and  vigorous, 
with  the  black  curls  flying  out  round  her  head  and  her 
long  coat  wrapped  close  by  the  wind. 

"  Vous  venez  trop  tard,"  she  cried  exultantly.  "  Eh ! 
Vous  venez  trop  tard ! " 

"Too  late  for  what?"  He  felt  her  flinch  in  his  grip, 
and  he  tightened  it.  "  I  think  you  had  better  find  that 
I've  not  come  too  late,  my  pretty  one,"  he  said  softly. 

She  laughed  again,  flinging  her  arms  up. 

"  Hear  the  wind,"  she  cried.  "  Hear  the  wind !  Dieu ! 
C'est  to  ride  the  wind  when  it  comes  so.  Ah!  Vous  ter- 
rible !  Vous  si  cruelle !  Ecoutez  moi !  "  she  cried  to  it, 
breaking  into  the  deep  belling  whistle  of  the  moose-call. 
Dick's  eyes  changed.  For  she  struck  his  own  wild  fibres 
to  a  chord  of  restless  passion. 

"  Speak  you  little  devil,"  he  said,  and  shook  her  again. 
"Who's  been  here?  Ogilvie?" 

"  Ogilvie !  Ogilvie  1'ivrogne !  Ah !  Tant  pis  pour  il 
if  he  had." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it.  I  fancy  it's  the  worse  for  anyone 
who  has  much  to  do  with  you.  Who,  then?  Robison?  " 

She  stood  suddenly  still. 

"  Nom  de  chien,"  she  said  pettishly.  "  How  you  tease ! 
Oui.  Ogilvie  did  come  to  the  Mission  for  me,  and  I  sent 
him  home.  And  Robison  did  come  and  I  sent  him  home. 
And  you  did  come — too  late." 

"  Oh.  That's  where  I  was  too  late,  is  it  ?  Keep  that 
modest  opinion  of  yourself,  Andree.  One  sees  it  too  sel- 
dom these  days.  And  now  I'm  sending  you  home.  See? 
Allez.  You've  no  right  out  at  this  hour." 

She  laughed,  swaying  against  the  blast;  provocative; 
lawlessly  daring. 


9»  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

"  You  no  my  keeper,  Corp'ral  Heriot/'  she  cried. 

The  drink  in  Dick  flushed  in  his  brain.  He  followed 
her  two  steps.  Then  he  turned. 

"  Get  on  home  with  you,  Andree,"  he  said,  and  faced  the 
knives  of  the  wind  again.  For  it  was  necessary  to  dis- 
cover at  the  Mission  the  exact  time  when  the  two  men 
had  been  there. 

It  was  two  hours  before  he  came  back  to  Tempest. 

"  Ogilvie  doesn't  appear  to  be  on  earth,"  he  said.  "  But 
I  guess  he  hasn't  had  time  to  get  under  it.  We'll  make 
some  inquiries  of  Mr.  Robison  in  the  morning,  though  I 
don't  know  if  we'll  get  much  out  of  him.  There  was  an 
hour  between  their  calls  at  the  Mission." 

"  Robison  might  have  waited  for  him,"  suggested  Tem- 
pest, and  Dick  laughed. 

"  More  likely  to  have  waited  for  Grange's  Andree,"  he 
said.  "  I  met  her  coming  home  alone." 

"Andree!" 

Tempest  reddened.  He  hated  to  think  of  Andree  in 
connection  with  those  men,  and  in  his  heart  the  time  was 
already  ripening  when  he  should  take  her  from  all  such 
things  as  could  rub  the  bloom  off  her  young  girlhood. 

"  U-m-m,"  grunted  Dick,  rubbing  the  frozen  snow  out 
of  his  hair.  "  Wild  little  devil  she  is,  too.  May  as  well 
question  her  again,  anyway." 

And  then  Tempest  turned  on  him  in  a  swift  blaze  of 
anger. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  hardly  likely  that  you  should  keep 
your  respect  for  women  when  you  have  lost  it  for  your- 
self," he  said. 

Dick  stared.  Then  he  laughed,  low  and  softly.  He 
put  no  personal  application  into  this.  He  was  not  fastid- 
ious, but  he  would  not  have  troubled  about  Grange's  An- 
dree, and  the  idea  that  Tempest  might  do  so  would  have 
been  absolutely  impossible  of  conception.  But  he  believed 
that  he  saw  in  this  Tempest's  old  impossible  ideals  of 
human  nature. 

"  Don't  fret,"  he  said.  "  You  have  probably  annexed 
all  the  superfluous  amount  in  the  universe.  Anyway,  I 
think  I'm  going  to  ask  some  questions  to-morrow." 

But  although  Grey  Wolf  to  its  last  man  searched  the 


"GRANGE'S    ANDREE"  93 

woods  in  the  blinding  snow  next  day;  although  Robison 
underwent  a  severe  cross-examination  in  the  barrack-office ; 
although  Dick  questioned  Andree  privately  until  she 
stooped  and  bit  his  hand  and  fled,  leaving  him  cursing, 
no  one  found  Ogilvie.  He  was  gone:  gone  like  the  dead 
leaves  of  fall  that  lay  under  the  snow  to  decay ;  and  neither 
art  or  chance  nor  anything  else  gave  him  back  to  Grey 
Wolf  to  tell  what  he  had  done  with  a  certain  memorandum 
of  the  Royal  North-West  Mounted  Police. 


CHAPTER   V 

"  WE   GENERALLY  DON*T  " 

"  I  GUESS  that'll  take  him  goin'  some  to  figure  it  out/' 
said  Poley  in  a  pious  content. 

Kennedy  straightened  from  pulling  up  the  last  sled- 
strap;  breathed  heavily  on  his  hands  to  make  them  bend 
sufficiently  to  go  back  into  the  fur  gloves;  beat  them 
together,  and  said: 

"  Well,  /  guess  Dick'll  be  handin*  out  trouble  to  you  in 
a  minit,  all  right,  all  right." 

Poley  peered  sulkily  over  the  collar  of  his  mangy  bear- 
skin coat  at  the  snarling  knot  of  giddes  in  the  traces. 

"  Teach  him  ter  make  picters  o'  me,"  he  said.  "  Wait 
till  he  starts  bossin'  that  hound  a  bit.  That'll  larn  him." 

The  dog-teams  at  Grey  Wolf  were  drawn  from  "  any 
kind  o'  dog  as'll  work,"  and  the  barrack-teams  were  Poley 's 
the  full  summer  through,  descending  to  Tempest  and  Dick 
when  work  began.  Poley  knew  them  intimately;  myste- 
riously. He  communicated  his  opinion  on  the  universe  and 
his  fellows  to  them,  and  last  night  he  had  told  them — so 
far  as  words  would  go — exactly  what  he  thought  of  Dick 
for  a  certain  sketch  of  himself  which  was  just  now  circu- 
lating Grey  Wolf.  This  morning  he  had  improved  the 
lesson  by  harnessing  one  team  in  wrong  order  when  Dick 
left  the  work  half-done  to  go  in  at  Tempest's  call;  and 
now  he  stood  with  Kennedy,  who  was  over-young  for  skilled 
labour,  and  waited  results.  Dick  came  out  briskly,  pulling 
on  his  gloves.  He  glanced  from  the  tangle  of  yelping 
dogs  to  Poley,  and  his  smile  was  soft. 

"Who  treated  you  at  Grange's  last  night,  Poley?"  he 
asked.  "  For  I'll  swear  you  never  got  as  bad  as  this  out 
of  your  own  pocket." 

Because  Poley  was  known  to  be  over-careful  of  his  pri- 
vate purse  Kennedy  choked  with  laughter  as  Dick  sprang 
in  among  the  dogs ;  cuffing  and  kicking  in  a  good-humourecl 

94 


"WE    GENERALLY    DON'T »  95 

savagery  such  as  they  loved.  The  huge  short-haired  Mac- 
kenzie hound  was  buckled  into  his  rightful  place  in  the 
lead,  where  he  proclaimed  his  content  with  head  up. 
Sharkey,  the  one  husky  of  the  team,  backed  his  vigorously- 
curled  tail  against  the  sled,  and  along  the  traces  between 
Dick  strung  the  mongrels,  quick  and  certainly.  They 
stood  motionless  as  Tempest  brought  the  second  team 
round  the  corner  at  a  run.  And  then  Dick  slipped  his 
feet  into  the  snow-shoe  thongs. 

"  Get  busy,"  he  said  to  Kennedy.  "  Mush,  boys.  Mush 
along." 

He  cracked  the  long  whip  once,  and  at  the  yard  gate 
he  wheeled  to  send  Poley  a  parting  word  of  cheer. 

"  I  gave  Alice  another  sketch  of  you  last  night,  Poley," 
he  shouted. 

On  the  lip  of  the  forest  Dick  sprang  ahead  to  break 
trail;  swinging  his  weight  on  alternate  feet  and  jerking 
up  the  heel  of  the  long  shoe  with  the  kick  born  of  much 
practice.  The  new-fallen  snow  packed  in  the  shoe-lacings 
and  before  the  runners,  and  all  Dick's  endurance  and  great 
muscle-power  were  sternly  taxed  before  he  halted,  taking 
heavy  breaths  through  his  nostrils,  and  reached  his  coat 
from  the  sled. 

"  Get  down  to  it,"  he  said. 

Kennedy  hesitated.  This  was  his  first  winter  trail,  and 
he  was  soft. 

"  Suppose  I  get  cramp,  or  the  snow-shoe  heel  ? "  he 
suggested. 

"  Suppose  you  don't,"  said  Dick  with  meaning,  and 
dropped  into  place  beside  the  sleds. 

This  trip  promised  all  the  elements  that  were  good  for 
Dick.  There  was  danger,  there  was  unusualness,  there 
was  likely  to  be  sufficient  bodily  discomfort  to  flog  quiet  in 
him  the  restless  passions  that  grew  during  stagnation. 
Early  in  the  fall  a  handful  of  men  and  women  had  come 
from  the  States  and  up  the  water-ways,  calling  themselves 
a  lost  tribe  of  Israel,  and  thrusting  through  the  wilderness 
in  the  certain  expectation  of  finding  the  land  of  Canaan 
at  the  North  Pole.  Remembering  a  recent  march  of  the 
Doukhobors  in  "  the  altogether,"  when  the  Mounted  Police 
chased  them  with  underclothing  and  much  tact,  Tempest 


96  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

had  picked  apart  this  tribe  more  than  once.  But  always 
they  had  drawn  together  again  as  an  eddy  draws  straws, 
drifting  north  all  the  while.  Yesterday  word  had  come 
through  by  the  Indian  telegraph  which  flashes  from  mouth 
to  mouth  with  curious  speed  that  Abraham,  the  patriarch 
of  the  tribe,  was  sharpening  knives  and  preparing  to  offer 
up  some  Isaacs  to  the  God  who  walked  the  sky  in  the 
coloured  Northern  Lights  which  were  to  lead  them  into 
Canaan. 

It  was  for  Dick  to  discourage  Abraham,  and,  what 
would  probably  be  much  more  difficult,  the  tribe,  and  to 
bring  back  such  members  as  he  thought  fit.  Privately  he 
sorrowed  that  the  process  could  not  be  left  to  work  itself 
to  a  legitimate  conclusion  by  means  of  Abraham's  knives; 
publicly  he  agreed  with  Tempest  that  there  might  be  a 
big  force  to  contend  with;  for  the  wild,  hairy  father  of 
Israel  had  that  quality  which  brought  men  to  obey  and 
follow  him,  and  a  khaki  tunic  and  a  few  shiny  buttons 
were  not  likely  to  prove  of  much  weight  there.  But  to 
Kennedy  when  he  asked  questions  Dick  said  one  thing 
only. 

"  When  you've  lived  as  long  as  I  have  you  won't  try 
to  jump  your  fence  till  you  come  up  right  to  it — and  if 
you  don't  limber  your  ankles  you'll  get  that  stiff  tendon 
before  you  know  it." 

Kennedy  knew  it  that  night  when  he  hobbled  in  sharp 
agony  through  the  hour  of  stern,  breathless  work,  done  in 
the  eye  and  the  teeth  of  the  inclosing  frost.  Both  men 
were  red  with  hot  young  blood  and  sweating  with  labour; 
both  wrenched  from  the  dying  day  and  the  living  cold 
every  ounce  they  could  get.  But  dark  had  shut  down  and 
the  keen-toothed  frost  was  on  them  before  the  tent  had 
been  pitched  in  the  clearing  shovelled  out  by  the  snow- 
shoes,  and  the  big  fire  lit,  and  the  rawhide  lacings,  now 
rigid  as  iron,  beaten  and  bent  from  the  sledge-covers,  and 
the  outfit  brought  in,  and  the  frozen  whitefish,  threaded 
six  on  a  stick,  hung  in  the  heat  to  thaw  out  for  the  dogs. 
Dick  took  kettle  and  frying-pan  and  got  supper,  whis- 
tling softly,  with  his  shadow  treading  about  him  like  a 
giant  with  its  head  against  the  wall  of  black  beyond  the 
fire-circle.  On  the  snowy  rim  of  the  circle  sat  the  dogs, 


"WE    GENERALLY    DON'T'  97 

slavering,  motionless,  with  savage  eyes  drawn  to  pin-points 
that  never  left  their  master.  Dick  reached  for  the  white- 
fish,  and  in  a  flash  the  welter  of  dogs  was  about  him, 
hunger-mad.  Kennedy  saw  the  gleam  of  white  teeth  and 
the  red  of  many  eyes  against  the  tall  man's  shoulder,  and 
he  sat  still,  with  a  sudden  thrill  in  him  that  he  did  not 
care  to  name.  But  Dick  beat  and  kicked  and  swore  un- 
emotionally; doling  out  the  fish  to  each,  and  hammering 
the  brutes  apart  that  they  might  slink  aside,  each  with 
his  own,  to  bolt  it  with  growling  throat  and  back-looking, 
suspicious  eyes.  Then  he  cast  away  the  whip,  and  poured 
the  tea. 

"  That  boar-hound  is  a  sure  enough  devil,"  he  said. 
"  What  does  Poley  call  him  ?  " 

"  Okimow,"  said  Kennedy,  continuing  to  rub  liniment 
into  his  tendon  Achilles. 

"  Um-m,"  said  Dick.  ' '  Chief/  is  he  ?  "  He  looked  at 
the  hound  where  it  snuffed  round  the  edge  of  things  with 
long  ears  flapping.  "  My  lad,"  he  told  it,  "  there  isn't 
going  to  be  but  one  chief  in  this  outfit,  and  I  guess  that 
is  yours  truly."  And  then  he  looked  at  Kennedy.  "  I've 
shown  you  how  to  wrap  your  feet  before,"  he  said.  "  But 
I'll  swear  you've  got  your  instep  chafed  right  now.  Let 
up  and  have  supper.  I'll  fix  you  after." 

He  did,  with  scrupulous  exactness  and  plain  words.  For 
a  man's  feet  on  the  long  trail  are  of  infinitely  more  value 
to  him  than  his  soul  or  anything  else.  Besides,  in  Ken- 
nedy's case,  they  did  not  belong  to  him  at  all,  but  to  that 
great  organisation  of  which  he  was  such  a  very  minor  part, 
and  all  this  Dick  made  clear  to  him  without  pity  or  eva- 
sion. Then  the  fire  was  rebuilt,  huge  and  glowing,  with 
the  night  rounding  it  like  a  black  basin  full  of  blood;  and 
the  dogs  slunk  from  dark  to  light  and  from  light  to  dark 
again,  restless  as  a  weaver's  shuttle,  and  unsatisfied  still. 
The  men  hung  their  outer  clothes  around  the  fire.  Then, 
in  their  dry  rough  furs  they  lay  down  and  slept,  forgetful 
of  the  frost  that  was  at  its  stealthy  work  about  them; 
splitting  sappy  trees  where  their  trail  would  pass ;  making 
brittle  the  steel  knives  at  their  belts;  stiffening  the  cover- 
lacings  and  the  harness,  and  creeping  near  to  snatch  with 
icy  grip  at  the  fire  itself. 


98  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

Twice  in  the  night  Dick  rose  to  fling  on  more  wood 
and  to  see  the  Northern  Lights  chasing  across  the  sky 
like  merry  children  at  play.  The  long  months  at  Grey 
Wolf  had  been  bad  for  Dick.  They  had  cramped  him  back 
into  the  old  desires  which  had  been  too  strong  for  him  all 
his  life.  Among  men  he  fell  on  men's  sins  instantly,  and 
desired  nothing  else.  But  here,  with  the  great  call  of 
the  unsubdued  North-West,  whose  colours  he  wore  vibrat- 
ing through  all  his  senses,  he  paused  a  moment  on  the 
threshold  while  the  stars  went  by,  and  the  black  pines 
peaked  their  tops  to  point  where  their  feet  could  not  follow. 

Dick  had  no  desire  to  follow.  He  had  no  wish  to  be 
good.  But  he  knew,  with  a  wide-awake,  grim  amusement, 
that  the  delight  of  bringing  a  certain  man  to  justice  was 
shortly  going  to  be  weighed  against  the  pain  of  hurting  a 
certain  woman. 

The  North  Star  that  the  sailors  love  swung  high  in  the 
glittering  night.  Dick  had  never  kept  but  one  star  true 
all  his  days,  and  that  was  the  star  of  his  own  wild  will. 
He  dropped  his  eyes  and  crept  back  to  his  skins  with  their 
rough,  coarse  hair  and  their  animal  smell.  But  they  were 
good  to  Dick,  for  they  were  Nature's  own  way  of  pulling 
him  back  to  the  verities  past  all  the  subtle  creeds  of  yea 
and  nay. 

On  the  fourth  night  Dick  bought  more  whitefish  at  a 
clump  of  tepees  on  the  rim  of  a  snow-spread  lake  that 
ran  to  the  forest  lip.  He  gave  in  exchange  a  memorandum- 
form  where,  above  his  scrawled  name,  he  had  set  this  re- 
quest: "To  the  Hudson  Bay  Company.  Please  pay  to 
Kewasis  Eusta  the  sum  of  two  dollars,  and  charge  to 
general  acct." 

That  paper  would  hold  good  all  over  the  North-West 
and  the  old  chief  knew  it,  folding  it  with  stiff  fingers  that 
yet  had  not  lost  cunning  at  trap  and  trigger. 

"  Perhaps  I  go  to  Peace  River  Landing,"  he  said.  "  And 
perhaps  to  St.  John.  Ne  totam  goes  west  ?  " 

Dick's  knowledge  of  Cree  would  not  string  a  sentence. 
But  his  hand-language  presently  brought  him  out  an  inter- 
preter; a  middle-aged  half-breed  with  tangled  hair  lank 
on  his  shoulders  and  mangy  skins  close  to  his  throat. 
The  whole  camp  smelt  badly ;  it  was  poor  and  desolate,  and 


"WE   GENERALLY  DON'T'  99 

at  Dick's  feet  a  couple  of  children  gnawed  together  on  a 
last-year's  moose-bone  dug  out  of  the  snow.  The  breed 
looked  down  on  them  with  pride. 

"  Mine/'  he  said,  in  the  French  of  the  half-breed  West. 
"  I  have  a  brother  who  is  un  homme  blanc." 

He  explained  further  that  his  brother  lived  in  a  white- 
man  house  "  outside "  and  drank  and  swore  after  the 
manner  that  white-men  use.  He  clung  to  that  piece  of 
civilisation  as  Randel  clung  to  his  battery-key  and  Jen- 
nifer to  her  silk  portieres,  and  Dick  nodded. 

"  You're  belly-pinched,  my  friend/'  he  said.  "  And 
you're  old  before  your  time.  But  you  are  a  happier  man 
than  your  brother.  Your  social  problems  don't  keep  you 
awake  o'  nights,  I  imagine.  Now,  tell  me  what  you  know 
of  that  lost  tribe  of  Israel  which  has  gone  up  into  the 
Clear  Hills  to  find  a  picturesque  place  to  sacrifice  Isaac 
in." 

What  the  breed  told,  Dick  afterwards  translated  to 
Kennedy  in  the  tent. 

"  They're  camped  some  place  where  they  expect  to 
make  out  for  the  winter.  But  they  can't  be  hunters,  for 
they  have  already  traded  most  of  their  clothing  here  for 
food.  I'm  taking  dried  moosemeat  along,  and  we  can  give 
'em  some  skins  if  they'll  wear  them.  But  I'd  like  to  know 
why  nakedness  and  certain  phases  of  religion  go  together, 
and  I'd  like  to  know  what  we're  to  do  with  that  nursery 
when  we  find  it." 

Kennedy  was  rubbing  his  knotted  calves  where  the  last 
hour's  cramp  had  caught  him.  But  three  days  with  Dick 
had  taught  him  to  endure  his  pains  without  comment, 
and  the  agonising  snow-shoe  ache  was  eased  since  he 
had  learned  to  grease  the  instep  and  properly  lace  the 
thongs. 

"  Will  we  have  to  bring  all  the  beggars  in  ?  "  he  de- 
manded. 

"The  Lord  forbid,"  said  Dick,  and  laughed.  "There 
should  be  four  men  and  eleven  women  and  six  chil- 
dren. But  we'll  leave  that  puzzle  till  we  come  to  it,  I 
think." 

On  the  second  afternoon  they  came  to  the  puzzle,  where 
a  crazy  knot  of  branch-made  shacks,  helped  out  by  slabs 


100  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

of  snow,  crouched  under  the  flank  of  a  cliff  where  the 
spruces  brooded  with  their  wide-winged  branches,  snow- 
spread,  for  a  roof  above  all. 

"  If  they  last  the  winter  out  the  first  Chinook  will 
drown  them,"  said  Dick.  Then  he  called  Kennedy  for- 
ward as  the  first  dog  in  the  camp  gave  tongue. 

"'I'm  out  for  Abraham,"  he  said.  "But  you're  to  look 
after  his  wives,  Kennedy — as  many  of  them  as  you  can 
manage.  Leave  me  the  men." 

"  B-but — what  can  I  do  with  'em?"  said  Kennedy  in 
his  nervous  youth. 

"  Anything.  Kiss  'em.  But  keep  them  off  me.  Abra- 
ham will  likely  show  fight,  and  I  can't  be  mussed  up 
with  other  things." 

The  dogs  drew  into  the  camp  and  dropped  panting,  each 
where  he  stood.  But  Okimow  the  hound  watched  Dick 
with  his  red-rimmed,  sagging  eyes.  One  night  those  two 
had  met  for  victory,  even  as  Poley  had  predicted,  and  the 
dog  now  gave  the  man  that  proud  obedience  which  one 
lord  may  yield  another.  Dick  rubbed  the  wet  nose  as  he 
passed  Okimow. 

"  Good  boy,"  he  said,  and  strode  up  to  a  shapeless 
muddle  of  sticks  and  snow  sealed  by  a  wooden  door  that 
had  once  been  the  floor  of  a  wagon.  His  knock  on  the 
door  woke  the  silent  camp  as  a  bee-hive  wakes  at  a  kick. 
Unseen  children  screamed;  a  woman  ran  out  of  a  near-by 
shack  and  dived  back.  More  dogs  barked,  and  sound  went 
calling  through  all  the  crazy  structures  where  no  man  ap- 
peared to  stand  against  these  two  who  carried  their  errand 
in  their  very  tread. 

"  Saints  send  that  Abraham  has  offered  up  himself," 
said  Dick,  and  burst  the  door  down  with  his  shoulder 
and  went  in. 

A  damp  air  breathed  at  him;  fetid,  and  chill  and  hor- 
rible. He  struck  a  match  and  held  it  up,  looking  round. 
Then  his  blood  suddenly  ran  slow.  The  smoke-blackened 
place  was  empty,  swept  naked  of  all  that  made  it  human 
habitation.  And  yet  human  habitation  was  there,  stretched 
on  a  piece  of  sacking  at  his  feet;  a  still  body,  small  and 
young,  and  but  partly  covered.  Dick  dropped  on  his  knee 
with  his  heart  thumping.  He  struck  another  match,  and 


"WE    GENERALLY    DON'T'3  101 

sought  with  swift  eyes  and  fingers.  There  was  no  blood; 
no  mark  of  the  knife  anywhere  at  all.  And  yet  the  boy 
lay  there  very  truly  as  a  sacrifice;  offered  up  to  the  mad- 
ness of  man's  beliefs  as  surely  as  though  he  had  died  by 
the  steel  on  the  wind-swept  hill. 

Dick  stepped  out  again  with  his  lips  close  and  eyes 
dangerous.  Any  little  mercy  that  might  have  been  in  him 
was  dead,  and  he  kicked  in  the  brush-and-snow  shelters 
with  slight  ceremony,  unearthing  the  remaining  children 
and  all  the  women.  The  women  cried,  clamouring  to  Ken- 
nedy in  an  unknown  tongue.  They  were  drawn  by  his 
fresh  cheeks  and  his  young  eyes,  and  Dick  laughed,  watch- 
ing. 

"  Keep  your  head  and  keep  your  temper,"  he  said.  "  I 
suppose  Abraham  and  the  other  bucks  have  gone  hunting. 
We'll  wait  for  them." 

Kennedy  never  forgot  that  hour  when  Dick  inspected 
everything  in  the  camp  that  would  bear  inspection  and 
much  that  would  not.  The  children  followed  him;  dark- 
eyed  little  shaggy  creatures,  hopping  from  one  foot  to  the 
other  to  warm  their  half-clad  misery.  The  women  stood 
apart  with  sullen  mutterings,  and  their  eyes  were  suspi- 
cious under  the  close-drawn  shawls.  Dick  pushed  his 
investigations  through  to  the  bitter  end,  unembarrassed. 
Then  he  came  to  Kennedy. 

"  They  live  like  beasts,"  he  said.  "  But  they  likely  can 
make  out.  They  have  food  and  warmth.  I  guess  I'll  have 
to  pluck  the  patriarch,  though.  His  doings  savour  mildly 
of  insanity."  He  flung  up  his  head,  with  the  listening  look 
in  his  eyes.  "  Here  they  come,"  he  said.  "  And — Lord, 
they've  got  a  battle-chant  like  the  South  Sea  Islanders." 

Down  the  narrow  trail  that  gave  to  the  naked  woods 
four  men  swung  into  the  clearing  with  the  white  spray 
breaking  from  their  snow-shoes.  Moose-meat  hung  from 
their  shoulders  in  great  lumps;  grey  coarse  stuff,  dark 
with  its  blood.  Two  were  weedy  weaklings  who  shambled, 
looking  sideways.  The  third  walked  like  a  hunter,  with  a 
Winchester  crooked  in  his  arm,  and  his  keen  eyes  glancing. 
Abraham  led,  chanting  what  was  probablv  an  Old  Testa- 
ment war-song.  His  grey  beard,  stiffened  by  frost,  blew 
into  points  over  each  shoulder;  the  moose-pelt  girded  about 


102  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

him,  trailed,  congealing  in  bloody  lumps  of  fat.  His  eyes 
were  wild,  the  toss  of  his  great  arms  was  wild,  and  Dick 
slid  the  revolver  round  in  his  belt,  speaking  curtly  to 
Kennedy. 

"  Keep  your  head  and  your  temper.  And  don't  shoot 
till  you  know  there's  no  other  way." 

The  Mounted  Policeman  who  brings  his  prisoner  in 
dead  has  to  suffer  for  it.  Kennedy  remembered,  with  the 
apple  swelling  in  his  throat,  as  the  men  neared.  His  mind 
was  under  fire  for  the  first  time,  and  he  began  to  realise 
that  it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  do  less  than  make  good. 
He  sat  down  on  the  sled  nervously;  stood  up  again,  and 
heard  the  hound  growl  where  it  lay  with  muzzle  on 
stretched  paws. 

Dick  walked  three  steps  and  saluted ;  made  another  step, 
and  the  barrel  of  a  second  Winchester  shone  among  the 
folds  of  the  moose-pelt.  Kennedy  began  to  feel  sick,  for 
he  knew  that  that  ten-shot  automatic  rifle,  and  he  saw 
Dick  walk  straight  up  to  it  with  unflinching  feet.  But 
then  he  could  not  see,  as  Dick  saw,  the  wavering  in  those 
red  eyes  of  insanity.  Abraham  quivered;  swerved;  made 
a  break  for  the  woods,  and  Dick  swung  like  a  flash  and 
leapt  after  him. 

"  Hold  the  others,"  he  shouted.  And  the  raw,  sappy 
youth  jerked  forward  his  revolver  and  covered  the  three 
with  shaking  hand  and  heart  that  quailed  as  sound  died 
out  in  the  forest. 

It  was  the  first  searing  in  the  boy's  soul  of  the  claims 
made  on  manhood,  and  he  stood  alone  in  the  sudden  dumb 
silence,  striving  to  make  his  face  look  bold.  The  two 
weaklings  dropped  in  the  snow.  The  third  stood,  holding 
him  eye  to  eye,  and  the  rifle  was  flung  forward  along  his 
wrist.  The  women  whimpered,  afraid  to  scream;  but  the 
children  crawled  up  to  the  hunters,  dragging  at  the  raw 
meat.  And  out  of  the  forest  where  the  grey  of  dusk 
drifted  there  came  no  sound  . 

Kennedy's  breath  caught  in  great  gulps.  An  insane  matt 
occasionally  has  the  strength  of  ten,  and  if  that  maniac 
came  back  alone — something  at  the  back  of  his  head  said 
eternally:  "  I  won't  run.  Bv  ,  I  won't  run." 

Then  he  looked   down   at  the  hound,   straining  in  the 


"WE    GENERALLY    DON'T J:  103 

harness.  With  a  gasp  of  understanding  he  loosed  him, 
holding  the  steel  menace  still,  and  Okimow  shot  across  the 
clearing  like  a  brown  log  launched  into  space.  The  grip 
of  numb  dread  lessened  in  Kennedy,  and  he  realised  that 
the  cold  was  eating  into  his  bones,  and  that,  in  the  frosty 
metallic  light,  the  held-up  men  looked  grey. 

By  signs  he  got  them  moving,  and  the  four  took  the 
treadmill  trail  over  the  narrow  clearing,  round  after  round; 
the  white  boy  with  the  blue  scared  eyes  driving  the  swarthy, 
shaggy  men  of  alien  tongue  and  breed. 

Shivering  and  complaining  the  women  made  fires,  and 
presently  the  smell  of  roast  moose-flesh  stirred  Kennedy's 
vitals  until  he  shut  his  nostrils  against  it.  And  the  tension 
of  fear  and  hunger  and  weariness  grew.  It  had  grown 
to  the  edge  of  hysteria  when  Dick  came  back,  walking 
heavily.  He  was  half-stripped  in  the  bitter  cold,  and  he 
staggered  as  he  swung  up  his  fur  artiki  from  the  sled  and 
bisected  Kennedy's  march. 

"  Okimow's  watching  Abraham,"  he  said.  "  I  left  him 
most  of  my  dunnage.  Get  those  men  over  to  the  fires  and 
feed.  Sharp!  We've  got  to  go  after  him." 

Kennedy  asked  one  question  as  his  teeth  met  in  the 
smoking  meat. 

"Did  Okimow  help  any?"  he  said.  And  Dick  an- 
swered, sitting  with  Abraham's  rifle  across  his  knees: 

"  Just  about  saved  my  life,  I  guess." 

That  was  all  that  Kennedy  ever  knew  in  words  of  the 
struggle  in  the  forest;  but  imagination  told  him  a  little 
more  when  they  lifted  the  bound  man  on  to  the  sled  in 
the  dark,  and  Dick's  clipped  tones  of  exhaustion  bade  him 
stand  clear  of  the  snapping  jaws  and  the  writhing,  taloned 
hands.  All  that  had  been  man  in  Abraham  had  given  way, 
and  he  foamed  like  an  animal  in  a  trap ;  raving  in  an 
ainknown  tongue,  and  glaring  with  starting  eyes. 

Dick  showed  neither  pity  nor  horror.  He  engineered  the 
burdened  sled  into  a  shack ;  covered  it  warm  for  the  night, 
and  left  it.  Then  he  and  Kennedy  took  sentry-go  in  turns 
until  the  dawn  broke.  And  at  dawn  they  buried  the  Isaac 
of  a  later  history ;  baring  the  ground  of  snow  and  building 
the  body  in  against  wolf  and  coyote  with  rocks  brought 


104  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

with  great  labour.  For  the  earth  rang  like  iron,  denying 
entrance  to  the  earth  that  lay  placid  above  it.  Then  Dick 
straightened,  wiping  the  sweat  from  his  face. 

"  Time  we  pulled  out/'  he  said.  "  They've  got  one  man, 
and  he's  a  hunter.  They'll  do  till  we  can  get  'em  out  in 
spring." 

But  Kennedy  halted  shamefaced  by  the  grave. 

"  Perhaps  you  wouldn't  want  ter  say  something"  he 
mumbled. 

"What?"  Dick  stared.  Then  humorous  contempt 
twitched  his  lips. 

"  Say  anything  you  feel  like,  son,"  he  said.  "  And  take 
your  time.  I  imagine  it  would  come  better  from  you  than 
me." 

He  went  back  to  the  shack  where  the  big  hound  watched 
Abraham  and  the  remainder  of  the  lost  tribe  of  Israel 
watched  the  hound  and  listened  to  the  whirling  words  of 
the  pinioned  man.  And  an  hour  later  began  that  long 
nightmare  that  walked  with  them  through  the  eight  days 
into  Grey  Wolf;  days  that  two  men  remembered  long  after 
the  third  had  gone  to  find  his  senses  again  in  another  world. 

There  were  hours  when  the  man  on  the  sled  turned  livid 
from  cold,  and  Dick  had  to  let  him  up  to  keep  life  in  him, 
locking  the  handcuffs  to  his  own  belt  for  safety.  There 
were  hours  when  Abraham  lay  rigid,  with  clenched  teeth 
through  which  they  struggled  to  force  food  in  vain.  There 
were  hours  too  when  the  blizzard  caught  them;  so  that 
men  and  dogs  bowed  to  its  might,  and  crouched  under  the 
half-pitched  tent  with  the  raving  man  at  their  ears  until 
the  storm  was  spent  and  they  rose  again,  recounting  their 
lessening  food-kit. 

But  to  Kennedy  the  edge  of  all  horror  was  reached  in 
the  times  when  Dick  set  the  maniac-  on  his  feet,  and  ran 
beside  him,  or  struggled  against  him,  or  whirled  with  him 
in  a  drunken,  hideous  dance,  according  to  Abraham's  whim, 
in  order  that  life  might  be  kept  in  this  huge  creature  whom 
earth  did  not  want  and  dared  not  lose.  Dick's  own  life 
was  often  in  danger  from  the  sheer  brute  strength  of  the 
man.  He  was  worn  from  sleeplessness  and  exhaustion  and 
cold,  and,  in  later  days,  from  hunger.  A  spot  on  his  chin 


"WE    GENERALLY    DON'T"  105 

had  been  bitten  black  in  an  hour  when  he  had  no  time  to 
give  thought  to  it.  Abraham's  teeth  had  met  once  in  the 
fleshy  part  of  his  hand,  and  the  incoming  frost  threatened 
a  long,  painful  healing.  His  nerves  were  strong  as  a  man's 
need  be,  but  the  tension  was  unslackening ;  food  ran  short, 
and  bad  weather  made  trail-breaking  needful  for  three 
ghastly  days  on  end.  Kennedy  worked  well  and  uncom- 
plainingly ;  but  his  mental  and  physical  fibres  were  not  yet 
set,  and  the  burden  of  all  fell  on  Dick. 

And  then  came  the  last  night  out  from  Grey  Wolf,  in 
an  empty  freighter's  shack  by  the  river.  For  fifty  hours 
Abraham  had  refused  food.  He  lay  weak  as  a  child  by 
the  fire,  moaning  until  Dick  loosed  the  rawhide  that  had 
wound  him  about  through  his  last  fit  of  violence,  and  left 
him  at  ease  with  the  handcuffs  only.  He  fell  asleep  then, 
and  Dick  looked  with  sunken  eyes  on  Kennedy. 

"  I  must  sleep  right  now,  if  we  all  die  for  it,"  he  said. 
"  You  can  have  Okimow  help  you ;  but  I  believe  he's  fagged 
out.  Give  me  two  hours,  and  then  call  me." 

Within  two  hours  another  than  Kennedy  very  nearly 
called  Dick,  when  a  gasping  smother  of  human  hair  pressed 
down  on  him,  and  somewhere  in  the  dark  he  heard  the 
mad  jaws  clashing.  He  was  full  awake  and  alert  with  all 
the  instinct  of  self-preservation ;  and,  like  reality  piercing 
through  a  nightmare,  the  click  of  Kennedy's  revolver- 
hammer  came  to  him. 

"  Don't  shoot,"  he  shouted,  and  fumbled  for  the  throat- 
grip  with  his  maimed  hand  as  Kennedy  flung  himself  on 
the  two. 

Dick  said  nothing  when  Abraham  was  laid  at  last  like 
a  moss-baby  on  the  earth,  and  the  fire  was  made  up,  and 
Okimow's  bristles  quieted.  But  when  Kennedy  floundered 
into  self-accusation  he  swore  impatiently. 

"  Sit  up  and  make  out  the  report  of  this  capture,"  he 
said.  "  That'll  keep  you  awake." 

"  I  don't  guess  I  know  how " 

"  You've  seen  a  Blue  Book,  haven't  you?  Get  busy  and 
shut  up." 

The  shack  fell  silent.  Outside,  the  world  was  infinitely 
quiet  and  far  in  its  sweeping  wastes  of  snow.  The  wood 


106  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

wheewed  and  crackled,  spitting  suddenly  when  a  lump  of 
snow  in  a  broken  fork  caught  the  heat.  Abraham  lay  still, 
breathing  thickly.  Kenney,  with  his  heavily-stockinged 
feet  thrust  out  to  the  fire,  wrote  laboriously  and  lengthily, 
and  Dick  watched  the  flames  and  remembered  this  game 
which  he  was  playing  with  Ducane  as  goal.  He  spoke  at 
last  abruptly. 

"  Give  me  that  paper,  Kennedy.  I'll  put  it  in  my 
pocketbook." 

"I'm  not  through  yet " 

"  Holy  smoke!  What  are  you  writing?  A  book?  How 
much  have  you  got?" 

"  Only  four  pages  and  a  bit." 

"  It'll  go  into  four  lines.  Tear  that  stuff  out  and  chuck 
it  on  the  fire.  Now,  write  as  I  tell  you.  '  Sir, — I  have 
the  honour  to  report  that  the  maniac  Abraham — surname 
unknown — who  headed  the  company  of  fanatics  calling 
themselves  a  lost  tribe  of  Israel,  was  lately  captured  by 
Constable  Kennedy  and  myself  at  their  settlement  in  the 
Clear  Hills.  Constable  Kennedy,  who  has  recently  joined, 
behaved  with  commendable  coolness  under  rather  trying 
circumstances.  I  have  the  honour  to  be,  Sir,  your  obedient 
servant *  " 

"  Lord !  "  said  Kennedy  sharply.  "  You  don't  want  to 
rub  it  in  like  that." 

"  You'll  make  a  man  all  right  when  you  grow  up,"  said 
Dick.  "  And  then  you  will  understand  that  a  man  only 
talks  about  the  things  he  doesn't  do.  What  were  you  going 
to  make  out  of  this  little  game  home  in  Grey  Wolf  ?  " 

Under  the  quizzical  eyes  Kennedy  burned  with  the  red 
of  shame. 

"  All  right,"  said  Dick,  and  laughed.  "  But  I  guess  I 
wouldn't.  We  generally  don't,  you  know." 

But  this  moral  lesson  did  not  prevent  him  from  leaving 
Kennedy  at  the  barracks  when  Abraham  was  disposed  of, 
and  straightway  seeking  at  Grange's  that  brandy  for  which 
his  soul  craved.  And  so  it  was  that  Jennifer,  coming  later 
into  the  little  back-room  at  Grange's,  whither  Dick  had 
retired  with  his  glass,  found  him  asleep  there.  He  lay 
back  in  the  big  chair,  with  one  leg  outstretched  to  the  heat 


lor 

of  the  stove,  and  melted  snow  dripping  from  the  black 
stockings  rolled  up  to  the  knee,  and  the  white  ones  rolled 
down  over  the  moccasins.  His  fur  coat  and  his  cap  were 
flung  on  the  floor,  and  his  unshaven  chin  was  sunk  in  his 
tunic-collar.  One  hand,  knotted  in  a  rough  bandage,  hung 
over  the  chair-arm,  and  the  whole  of  him  told  out  that 
slackness  of  fibre  which  is  born  of  bitter,  unresting 
strain. 

Jennifer  knew  just  a  little  concerning  that  strain,  for 
Kennedy's  youth  would  not  be  denied  some  heroics.  And 
yet  the  reserve  of  his  new-come  manhood  had  set  his  tongue 
rather  to  such  things  as  the  searing  of  Dick's  wound  by  a 
red-hot  bolt  and  the  pulling  of  the  teams  in  a  blizzard  than 
to  his  own  glory.  And  of  the  things  which  were  the  real 
essentials  he  had  neither  the  wit  nor  the  understanding  to 
speak.  But  Jennifer  was  learning  to  interpret  knowledge 
by  that  which  is  not  said.  She  moved  a  little  from  the 
slow-breathing  man  with  his  dark  hair  damp  with  sweat 
and  the  deep  lines  round  his  mouth,  and  she  looked  from 
the  dulling  window  on  the  lives  whereto  such  men  came. 

There  had  been  a  policeman  of  the  West  who  bore  his 
man  south  from  Chipewyan  against  the  full  blast  of  the 
winter;  a  maniac  prisoner  and  a  hard-bitten  officer  who 
•paid  for  those  days  of  strain  by  the  loss  of  his  own 
senses.  There  was  one  at  whom  a  "  Cowboy  Jack  pointed 
a  gun  against  section  105  of  the  Criminal  Code,"  and  who 
"  unfortunately  destroyed  one  chair "  in  the  struggle  of 
capture.  There  was  the  rider  of  the  prairie-patrol  who 
brought  the  wife  and  children  of  a  settler  from  the  sting- 
ing smoke  and  the  flames  that  ringed  them  as  surely  as 
ever  fires  ringed  in  Brunhild.  There  was  the  other  who 
walked  in  the  serenity  which  is  given  of  God  or  devils 
through  the  Indian  camp  squatted  in  vivid  objection  across 
the  projected  line  of  a  railroad,  and  dispersed  the  thunder 
and  gathering  lightning  by  the  simple  methodical  direct- 
ness with  which  he  kicked  down  the  tepees,  one  by  one,  in 
an  unbroken  silence.  And  there  were  a  thousand  more 
whose  life-work  lay,  bald  and  unvarnished,  in  the  blue- 
backed  Annual  Reports  which  the  world  never  reads. 

There  was  something  of  the  old  Norse  grim  humour  in 


108  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

these  naked  stories.  To  him  who  encountered  Cowboy 
Jack  the  breaking  of  the  chair  was  the  vital  point.  Jen- 
nifer laughed  softly.  These  men  did  not  know  what  they 
were  doing — for  their  land,  for  their  nation.  They  did 
not  know. 

She  looked  again  at  Dick.  Already  slackness  had  gone 
out  of  him.  One  knee  was  bent,  one  hand  gripped  up  as 
though  his  nature  watched  for  the  sudden  call.  Jennifer 
could  understand  that.  It  was  the  birth-mark  of  more  than 
the  roving  men,  for  all  the  children  of  a  new  land  carry 
it;  carry  the  force  and  the  charged  tenseness  and  the  untir- 
ing alertness  which  makes  for  conquest,  for  the  wresting 
of  something  from  nothing,  for  the  building  of  nations  in 
the  land  they  hold  by  birth  and  purchase  and  hard-won 
exchange.  And  yet,  in  such  as  these  was  surely  some 
throw-back  to  the  men  who  came  in  with  Prince  Rupert; 
some  blood  of  the  lawless,  of  unauthorised  passions  and 
whim,  of  the  temper  that  will  not  get  into  line,  of  the 
daring  that  swings  a  man  to  the  front  rank  where  the  big 
guns  roar. 

Dick  stirred  a  little,  opening  his  eyes.  They  were  heavy 
with  a  great  sleep  as  they  lifted  to  Jennifer  where  she  stood 
against  the  grey  window. 

"  You  there  still,"  he  said.  "  But  why  did  they  call  you 
Jennifer?  That  is  Cornish  for  Guinevere — and  she  left 
Arthur." 

His  voice  told  that  he  groped  yet  on  the  hazy  edge  of 
dreams.  Jennifer  moved  nervously;  and  then  he  sprang 
up,  locked  suddenly  into  his  senses  again. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  I  was  sleeping.  And 
I'm  disgracefully  dirty.  I  have  just  come  in." 

"  I  know.     Oh,  you  have  had  a  terrible,  terrible  time." 

"  Kennedy  is  very  young,"  apologised  Dick.  "  You  must 
excuse  him." 

"But — didn't  you?" 

"  Not  at  all,  thank  you.  It  was  an  extremely  ordinary 
patrol.  But  I  can't  forgive  myself  for  coming  before  you 
in  these  clothes." 

"  Oh,  how  could  you  think  I'd  mind  that?  I'm  glad 
always " 

Dick  skilfully  effaced  the  sentence  before  she  realised 


«WE    GENERALLY    DON'T53  109 

it.    His  eyes  smiled  as  he  paraphrased  Tempest's  accusa- 
tion of  a  few  weeks  back. 

"  Men  say  hard  things  of  me,  Mrs.  Ducane,"  he  said. 
"  But  won't  you  concede  me  still  the  possession  of  a  little 
respect  for  women  and  for  myself  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Jennifer,  and  reddened.  "  Don't.  It — it 
hurts  to — to  think  a  man  would  need  to  speak  in  that 
way — ever." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  he  said  instantly.  "A  man  who  has  been 
much  in  rough  places  forgets  sometimes  what  a  delicate 
instrument  a  woman  is." 

He  stretched  his  hands  out,  dirty  bandage  and  all. 

"  Look  at  those,"  he  said.  "  Fit  for  a  drum  or  a  barrel- 
organ,  perhaps.  But  for  the  lute  or  the  harp !  No !  " 

The  easy  courtesy  of  his  manner  belied  his  words,  and 
he  shook  his  head,  smiling.  To  Jennifer  it  was  the  daring 
of  life,  the  ring  of  the  bold  heart  and  merry  that  had 
ever  called  out  her  own  heart  to  meet  it.  She  had  thought 
that  she  answered  that  call  in  Ducane,  and  the  knowledge 
that  it  never  was  there  was  a  live  pain  that  would  not 
cease.  But  this  unshaven  man,  with  the  smell  of  wet  wool 
in  his  stockings  and  clothes,  and  of  drying  mooseskin  on 
his  feet,  brought  her  near  it  again  until  she  felt  the  hot 
breath  of  the  world  in  her  face,  and  the  reckless  laugh 
of  the  world  in  her  eyes. 

Dick  struck  in  her  a  spark  that  Tempest  could  not,  nor 
Ducane.  For  he  did  not  shield  her  womanhood  as  Tem- 
pest was  wont  to  do,  nor  offend  it  as  Ducane  often  did. 
And  he  took  her  out  at  last  to  Ducane  with  the  passion 
of  life  welling  up  in  her  for  the  things  that  were  done 
and  to  do.  Ducane  looked  at  her  as  they  swept  over  the 
frozen  lake  where  a  sunset  laid  golden  bars. 

"  What  was  that  buck  saying  to  you?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Nothing  in  particular,"  said  Jennifer,  and  reddened 
at  words  and  tone. 

"  I  won't  have  you  see  too  much  of  those  fellows,"  said 
Ducane,  and  pulled  her  close  in  his  arm.  "Do  you  hear 
me,  Jenny  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  said  Jennifer,  and  her  voice  was 
concentrated. 

"  Oh,  you  know  well  enough,"  Ducane  laughed.     "  Play 


110  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

with  them  all  you  like,"  he  said.  "  But  don't  you  play 
with  me.  See?  I  won't  have  it." 

The  knowledge  that  these  last  monthsv  had  given  her 
controlled  Jennifer.  She  reached  her  mittened  hand  to 
stroke  his  cheek. 

"  Harry,  dear,  don't  you  sometimes  forget  that  I'm  your 
wife?  "  she  said. 

Ducane's  rough  bear  hug  brought  her  close  to  his  rough 
bear's  heart. 

"  No,  Jenny.  No,  my  girl.  I  guess  I  never  forget  that. 
But  I'm  worried,  Jenny.  I'm  worried.  And  I  want  you 
all  the  time.  If  you  went  back  on  me,  by " 

She  silenced  his  lips  with  her  soft  fingers. 

"  I  will  never  go  back  on  you,  my  husband,"  she  said, 
and  they  drove  on,  unspeaking. 

Ducane  had  her  hand  under  the  rug,  clinging  as  a  cow- 
ard or  a  child  might  do.  Jennifer  looked  straight  out  to 
where  the  white  hill  and  the  scattered  forest  grew  plain 
to  meet  them.  But  she  saw  only  a  lean,  tired,  firm  face, 
white  under  the  wind-burn,  and  a  brown  hand  that  clenched 
strongly  even  in  sleep. 

When  Dick  returned  to  the  bar  he  saw  Grange's  Andree 
feeding  the  young  moose  in  the  hotel  yard.  Her  laugh 
called  Dick's  eyes  to  her.  And  then  he  stopped  and  stared. 
For  it  was  Tempest  who  held  the  armful  of  branches  from 
which  Andree  plucked  her  handfuls. 

"  What  the  devil "  he  said.     Then  he  laughed  and 

went  in.  "  For  if  Tempest  sets  out  to  make  a  saint  out 
of  that  young  sinner  he'll  have  to  take  off  his  coat  to  it," 
he  said. 

Tempest  was  not  trying  to  make  a  saint  of  Andree, 
because  he  did  not  guess  at  the  need  of  it.  Through  the 
white  light  of  his  own  nature  he  saw  her;  discovering  in 
her  beauties  that  were  never  there;  gold  that  was  only 
dross;  strong-burning  fires  that  other  men  knew  for  will- 
o'-the-wisp.  But,  because  a  man  fashions  his  own  heaven 
and  hell,  and  his  own  beliefs  from  the  texture  of  his  own 
heart,  Tempest  was  not  like  to  find  this  out.  For  a  man 
is  never  blinder  than  when  he  is  quite  sure  that  he  sees. 
After  Ogilvie  had  gone,  no  man  knew  where,  leaving  his 
corner  of  Hotchkiss'  shack  empty,  Hotchkiss  had  married 


Ill 

one  of  the  town-bred  girls  from  Grange's  and  Andree  had 
taken  her  place.  This  arrangement  appeared  satisfactory 
to  all  concerned  until  Tempest  came  in  from  a  three  days' 
trip  to  Lower  Landing  and  found  Andree  bearing  the  little 
oval  dishes  with  their  ill-cooked  food  over  the  big  bare 
room  to  a  noisy  tableful  of  freighters. 

Andree  had  not  forgotten  how  he  halted  inside  the  door, 
straight  and  tall  in  his  uniform,  and  looked  at  her  with 
eyes  as  straight — and  more  stern  than  she  cared  to  see. 
For  Tempest  was  just  now  the  North  Star  in  her  universe, 
and  her  compass  swung  to  him  as  naturally  as  it  would  by 
and  by  swing  to  another.  She  flinched  from  his  glance  as 
though  it  had  been  a  whip.  Then  her  tread  grew  stately 
and  her  eyes  cold,  and  she  moved  among  the  burring  talk 
and  the  rough  laughter  and  the  clatter  of  plates  and  knives 
like  the  handmaid  of  the  gods  which  Tempest  would  have 
her  be.  He  spoke  low  when  she  brought  the  food  to  his 
table  where  he  sat  alone. 

"  What  do  they  mean  by  letting  you  do  this  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Gertrude  got  married  yesterday,"  she  said.  "  And  I 
do  not  mind." 

"  But  I  mind,"  he  said.  And  because  it  was  the  first 
time  he  had  taken  that  tone  with  her  she  went  away, 
half-flattered,  half-afraid. 

He  was  saying  the  same  thing  now,  as  he  shed  the  last 
spruce-branches  on  the  snow  and  thrust  past  the  long 
poking  fiddle-head  to  come  near  her. 

"  And  I  won't  have  it,"  he  ended  sternly.  "  I  had  to 
turn  a  man  out  last  night.  If  he  had  spoken  to  you " 

Andree  looked  away.  She  knew  dimly  that  it  would  not 
please  Tempest  to  hear  how  well  she  could  take  care  of 
herself  when  she  chose. 

"  But  it  is  so  often  that  they  are  good  boys,"  she  said. 

"  I  know.  They're  usually  all  right.  But  I  hate  to  have 
you  wait  on  them.  And  I  hate  to  have  you  wait  on  me." 
He  came  nearer  yet.  "  I  wonder  if  you  guess  how  I  feel 
when  I  have  to  sit  still  and  let  you  wait  on  me,"  he  said. 

She  heard  the  note  in  his  voice.  But  she  could  not  read 
it.  She  saw  his  eyes.  But  she  did  not  know  what  they 
said. 

"  I — don't  understand,"  she  told  him. 


112  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

The  red  and  purple  sunset  was  gone,  leaving  greyness. 
A  thick  mist  swept  up  the  lake  and  into  the  yard,  and 
beside  them  the  moose  was  coughing.  She  herself  seemed 
growing  vague,  indistinct.  And  then  he  caught  her  hands, 
bringing  a  sharp  virile  note  into  the  haze. 

"  Andree,"  he  said.     "Will  you  marry  me?" 

She  jumped,  with  a  cry  of  anger  and  fear. 

"  Non,  non,"  she  gasped.  "  Nemoweya.  I  do  not  want 
to  go  maree.  I  do  not  want." 

The  breaking  of  her  careful  English  warned  him.  He 
stood  back  on  the  instant. 

"  Why,  don't  be  frightened,  dear,"  he  said.  "  You  don't 
imagine  I'd  do  a  thing  to  frighten  you?  But  I  need  you 
to  think  about  this,  Andree.  I  have  thought  of  it  ever 
since  I  first  saw  you  in  the  trail." 

"  So?  "  she  said,  with  a  long  indrawn  breath. 

She  stared  at  him,  with  her  brain  working  slowly  behind 
the  soft  eyes.  She  had  no  desire  for  marriage.  Always 
with  Andree,  "  two  boys  were  better  than  one,  and  three 
boys  were  better  than  two."  But  Robison  had  been  trouble- 
some of  late,  and  it  might  be  well  to  let  Tempest  step 
between  to  take  the  brunt.  It  did  not  run  so  in  her  mind. 
That  held  no  more  than  the  animal  instinct  of  getting  be- 
hind something  that  would  shield  it  from  danger.  She 
stood  very  still  in  the  mist  that  rimed  her  curls  and  her 
close-drawn  hood  and  pushed  long  warning  fingers  between 
her  and  the  man.  The  very  silence  that  she  used  with 
Tempest  waked  his  reverence.  To  him  it  showed  a  girl- 
heart  finely  tuned,  and  to  be  as  finely  touched.  He  did  not 
guess  that  she  had  just  enough  wit  to  know  it  for  her  only 
weapon  with  him.  The  moose  stamped  impatiently  in  the 
snow.  Then  it  flung  restlessly  round  the  yard,  with  neck 
laid  back  so  that  the  budding  horns  made  a  line  with  the 
shoulders,  and  its  big  splay  feet  swinging  noiselessly.  It 
looked  huge  and  threatening  as  it  loomed  in  the  mist, 
passed  and  came  again.  And  Tempest  had  no  knowledge 
of  how  the  wild  heart  in  that  still  girl  called  to  it. 

"  I  want  you,  dear,"  he  said,  gently.  "  And  I  think  you 
likely  want  me.  Everything  needs  its  opposite — which  is 
its  complement.  You  won't  understand  that.  But  every- 
thing is  made  dual,  Andree.  Light  needs  darkness,  sweet 


"WE    GENERALLY    DON'T"  113 

needs  bitter,  strength  needs  weakness,  man  needs  woman. 
It  is  only  the  contrast — the  nearness  of  the  other — which 
can  make  the  one  grow  to  its  highest.  I  love  my  work, 
God  knows.  But  it  has  not  been  enough  for  me  since  I 
found  you.  I  think  it  can  never  be  enough  for  me  again." 

His  hands  were  ungloved  where  they  came  over  her 
gloved  ones.  Andree  looked  down  on  them.  Those  brown, 
sinewy,  nervous  pieces  of  flesh  and  blood  could  strike  her 
out  of  life  by  the  sudden  contraction  and  swing  of  their 
steel  muscles  and  tendons.  He  was  the  strong  animal ; 
stronger  perhaps  than  Robison,  and  infinitely  less  alarming. 
She  lifted  his  hands  suddenly  and  kissed  them.  It  was  her 
tribute  to  the  man-strength  of  him,  and  that  was  all  that 
she  cared  for  or  understood.  But  to  Tempest  it  was  a  glo- 
rious act  that  brought  the  blood  to  his  forehead.  He  bowed 
it  down  on  the  joined  hands. 

"  God  bless  you,"  he  said  unsteadily.  "  God  bless  you, 
Andree." 

Dick,  half-asleep  over  the  mess-room  fire,  was  startled 
by  the  light  which  still  shone  in  Tempest's  face  when  he 
came  in  to  smoke  a  pipe  much  later.  But  no  power  short 
of  actual  proof  could  have  made  him  connect  it  with 
Grange's  Andree.  He  blinked  up,  half-derisive,  half- 
envious. 

"  Have  you  been  on  the  mountain-tops  again,  you  old 
beggar  ?  "  he  said.  Then,  underbreath,  he  mumbled  part 
of  a  verse  that  drifted  to  him  out  of  the  nowhere — 

"A  veil  'twixt  us  and  Thee,  dread  God. 

A  veil  'twixt  us  and  Thee; 
Lest  we  should  hear  too  clear,  too  clear, 
And  unto  madness  see." 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE    YOUNG    GOD    FREY 


Ducane  dashed  his  cup  down  in  the  saucer  with  a  force 
chat  spattered  the  tea  across  the  tablecloth. 

"What  in  the  name  of  all  things  d'you  let  that  old  fool 
into  the  house  for?  "  he  demanded. 

Jennifer  laughed  the  little  soft  laugh  that  soothed  him 
always. 

"  It's  just  a  thanksgiving  for  his  breakfast,  dear.  I  told 
Louisa  to  bring  him  in.  It  must  have  been  below  zero  in 
his  shack  this  morning." 

"  Pshaw  !  You  can't  freeze  a  Cree  Indian.  Good  Lord, 
Jenny!  Stop  him!  And  that  devil's  tom-tom  of  his,  too. 
Tell  him  -  -" 

Jennifer  went  out  quickly.  Ducane's  nerves  had  been  a 
ragged  edge  of  late,  and  she  could  not  draw  from  him  the 
reason  why.  But  she  shielded  and  eased  and  softened  him 
wherever  her  wit  could  do  it;  and  if  the  strain  showed  in 
her  face  it  was  not  Ducane  who  would  notice  it,  nor  yet 
the  two  in  the  rough  draughty  kitchen  behind  the  house. 

Jennifer  stood  a  moment  in  the  door.  At  the  broad 
blackened  bench  running  along  one  side  of  the  place  the 
slow,  clumsy  half-breed  girl  was  splashing  greasy  water 
as  she  scraped  a  pot.  She  was  a  living  thorn  in  Jennifer's 
flesh;  a  primitive  thing  that  could  not  be  taught,  and  that 
never  lost  its  temper.  Up  in  the  dark  rough  rafters  were 
thrust  broken  snow-shoes,  a  special  hand-sled  of  Ducane's, 
a  couple  of  bear-skins  of  his  own  curing,  and  many  other 
things  which  belonged  to  the  days  before  Jennifer  came 
and  which  she  had  not  had  the  courage  to  touch.  Before 
the  glowing  stove  sat  the  old  Cree,  astride  of  a  box.  His 
store-clothes  hung  loosely  on  his  gaunt,  long  body.  His 
black  hair,  like  frayed-out  carpet,  fell  back  from  the  blind, 
seamed  old  face  as  he  pointed  his  nose  to  the  roof  and 


"THE    YOUNG   GOD    FREY s!  115 

bayed  like   a  wolf  in  the   night,   keeping  time   with   the 
tom-tom  beat. 

"  Hah-yah-ah-ah !     Hah " 

Jennifer  touched  the  bowed  shoulder. 
Meewahsin,     Son-of-Lightning/'     she     said.       "  Very 


Son-of-Lightning's  bony  knuckles  dropped  from  the 
tuneless  little  drum.  He  twisted  to  meet  the  voice. 

"  Meewahsin  ? "  he  said,  and  showed  all  his  tobacco- 
blacked  teeth  in  the  grin  which  he  gave  no  one  but 
Jennifer.  "Aha,  Tapwa?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Jennifer.  "  It  is  truly  very  good." 
She  looked  at  Louisa.  "  Tell  him  it  is  time  to  go  out 
and  cut  kindling,"  she  said. 

Louisa  interpreted  in  the  swift  guttural  mutters  that 
seem  to  have  no  terminals.  The  old  man  raised  himself 
by  sections,  and  Jennifer  pulled  her  coat  from  the  passage- 
peg,  stepping  out  with  him  into  the  crisp  brilliance  of  the 
spring  morning. 

All  the  world  was  vividly,  crystally  new.  Under  the 
breath  of  the  Chinook  which  came  eager  and  warm  from 
the  Rockies  the  trees  had  sloughed  their  winter  covering, 
standing  in  delicate  grey  tracery  against  the  dazzling  sky. 
In  this  atmosphere  the  houses  over  at  Grey  Wolf  stood 
distinct,  each  one,  with  smoke  feathering  straightly  from 
the  chimneys.  Jennifer  could  see  the  glint  of  beaded  moc- 
casins on  a  man  by  the  hotel  door.  She  could  catch  the 
crack  of  a  quirt  as  Kennedy  went  up  the  street  on  the  pie- 
bald barrack  pony.  Snowbirds  were  calling  gladly  down 
the  lake  where  the  ice  was  thinning;  and  against  the  clear- 
ing fences  and  the  heaps  of  melting  snow  sunshine  was 
splintering  its  lances  gaily.  All  about  the  feet  of  Spring 
moved;  growing  nearer,  warmer.  The  air  was  full  of 
promise;  of  life,  of  things  to  be  and  do,  and  Jennifer's 
blood  ran  riot  with  the  joy  of  it  as  she  thrust  open  the 
door  of  Son-of-Lightning's  shack. 

If  the  world  outside  was  resurrection  that  shack  most 
surely  was  the  grave.  But  its  desolation  of  sacking-bunk, 
ragged  blankets,  old  lumber,  and  almost  audible  smell 
troubled  her  less  this  morning.  The  day  was  too  boister- 
ously glad.  Besides,  Son-of-Lightning  loved  it.  He  trod 


116  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

past  her  with  the  unerring  feet  of  the  blind  who  know  their 
path;  squatted  on  the  floor  like  some  furry  animal;  reached 
his  knife  from  a  tie  in  the  wall  and  a  dried  stick  from 
the  floor,  and  began  slicing  slivers  for  firewood.  He 
paused  once  to  try  the  blade  on  his  thumb,  and  Jennifer 
went  away,  shutting  the  door  on  the  sharp,  keen  air.  Day 
or  dark  were  alike  to  Son-of-Lightning,  and  he  was  smoke- 
dried  beyond  all  hurt  from  the  smells. 

Round  the  house  the  snow  was  pounded  into  holes  and 
kicked  to  ridges  by  the  passing  of  men  and  horses.  Where 
the  crisp  surface  spumed  into  spray  about  their  bodies  a 
big  husky-dog  was  fighting  two  of  Ducane's  sled-dogs. 
They  were  bred  too  close  to  the  wolf  for  Jennifer  to  care 
for  or  to  heed  the  issue.  Everything  belonging  to  Ducane 
was  savage  and  rough  and  unlovely  as  himself;  everything 
except  Jennifer.  She  watched  them  a  moment  with  her 
dark  brows  drawn  together.  That  husky  dog  was  Robi- 
son's,  and  always  his  coming  left  Ducane  inflamed  with 
excitement  or  irritable  with  a  hidden  fear. 

She  went  into  the  house,  hearing  Ducane  call  her  from 
the  passage. 

"  Jenny !  Bring  another  cup — and  some  more  bacon. 
Robison's  here." 

This  was  not  the  first  time  Ducane  had  bade  her  wait 
on  the  breed,  and  her  temper  began  to  stir.  She  gave  two 
orders  to  Louisa,  and  met  Ducane  in  the  narrow  side- 
passage  hung  with  his  guns  and  fishing-gear. 

"  Louisa  will  bring  them,"  she  said  quietly.  "  You  don't 
want  to  make  me  wait  on  Robison,  do  you  ?  " 

Ducane  was  irritable  already. 

"  By  George,"  he  exploded.  "  I  guess  you'll  leave  your 
Toronto  airs  behind  you  up  here,  my  girl.  If  Robison  is 
good  enough  for  me " 

"  He  is  good  enough  for  me.     Is  that  what  you  mean?  " 

Under  her  eyes  Ducane  fidgeted. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  him  ?  "  he  said  sulkily. 

"  Nothing,  perhaps — in  his  proper  place.  But  his  place 
is  not  in  my  sitting-room,  and  you  have  brought  him  there 
more  than  once.  Nor  is  it  in  the  dining-room  when  I  am 
there.  You  would  not  dare  attempt  to  make  him  my  equal 
if  he  had  not  a  greater  hold  over  you  than  he  should  have." 


"THE    YOUNG   GOD    FREY"  117 

Ducane  went  purple.  All  his  bullying,  blustering  na- 
ture flared  up. 

"  By  -    — ,  you'll  do  as  I  tell  you,"  he  said. 

"  I  will  not,"  said  Jennifer,  and  he  saw  the  steel  in  her 
eyes. 

For  a  moment  he  gasped.  Then  he  swore  again,  low 
and  in  admiration. 

"  You've  got  sand,  you  little  spitfire,"  he  said.  "  You've 
got  sand."  He  stared  at  her  still.  "  I  reckon  you  could 
jolly  the  lot  of  'em  if  you  were  put  to  it,  eh?  They 
wouldn't  cut  any  ice  off  you." 

She  shivered  under  the  eager  speculation  in  his  eyes. 

"  Harry — dear "  she  said,  and  reached  her  hand  up 

to  touch  his  cheek. 

He  caught  it,  crushing  his  lips  to  the  palm. 

"  You'd  do  anything  for  me,  Jenny  ?  "  he  whispered. 
"  Anything,  if  I  needed  it?  You  know  I  love  you,  Jenny. 
I  love  you." 

Neither  the  man  nor  the  woman  knew  yet  if  he"  loved 
himself  better.  Jennifer  drew  her  hand  gently  away. 

"  Anything  I  could,"  she  said.  "  You  know  that.  Now, 
go  back  to  Robison.  Louisa  has  taken  in  the  bacon." 

Ducane  went,  and  there  was  the  lift  of  eagerness  in  his 
feet.  For  he  had  a  whole  new  formula  to  work  on;  one 
close  at  hand;  one  which  he  had  never  thought  of  before. 
Robison  looked  at  him  with  curiosity.  He  did  not  under- 
stand this  man  who  had  gone  into  a  game  for  men  to  play 
and  who  was  now  afraid  of  it.  For  long  they  talked  very 
low  over  the  table-corner.  Then  Ducane  pushed  dishes 
and  silver  aside,  and  brought  some  papers  from  a  locked 
drawer  in  a  wall-cabinet. 

"  When  the  first  boat  goes  down  to  Chipewyan  we  go 
too,"  he  said.  "  I  want  some  information  and  some  photo- 
graphs about  that  country." 

"  Oh,"  Robison  rubbed  his  broad  flat  nose.  "  Told  yer 
Grey  Wolf  was  only  a  nibble  at  the  beginning." 

"  I  could  have  told  you  that.  Last  week  I  heard  from 
a  fellow  in  England  who'd  been  reading  some  of  our  liter- 
ature. It  came  under  cover  to  Winnipeg,  of  course.  I'm 
replying  direct  to  him.  He's  going  to  have  that  bit  of  land 
on  the  Peace  that  you  bought  from  Ras  Taylor." 


118  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Ras  Taylor  was  the  breed  whose  scrip-land  Robison  had 
bought.  Incidentally  Ras  Taylor  had  also  been  very  drunk 
at  intervals  for  some  months.  But  it  was  known  that 
Robison  had  been  very  good  to  him  and  had  paid  him  in 
advance  for  part  of  his  next  year's  trapping,  Ras  being 
too  deeply  in  debt  to  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  to  receive 
grace  from  them. 

Robison  nodded.  This  thing  had  been  done  before,  al- 
though the  Winnipeg  Company  which  supplied  the  litera- 
ture would  not  have  warmly  approved.  But  neither  Du- 
cane  nor  Robison  had  thought  of  seeking  encouragement 
from  them. 

"  Hand  over  the  feller's  letter,  an'  yer  answer,"  said 
Robison.  He  took  pains  to  know  that  Ducane  reserved  all 
his  treachery  for  the  other  members  of  the  Company,  and 
he  read  the  letters  with  deliberation. 

"  Looks  all  right,"  he  said,  and  tossed  them  back.  "  Du- 
cane, what's  that  Dick  Heriot  doing  across  here  so  often?  " 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  I  can't  stop  him  or  he'd  sus- 
pect something." 

"  Do  you  think  he  ain't  suspectin'  everybody  in  Grey 
Wolf  ever  since  he  first  got  wind  o'  this?  I  heard  all 
about  him  long  before  he  come  here.  But  you've  got  to 
watch  out  that  he  doesn't  do  more  than  suspect.  See?  " 

Ducane's  fat,  ruddy  face  sagged  and  paled. 

"  He  can't  suspect.  How  should  he  ?  We  never 
have " 

"  Well,  take  care  as  we  never  do,  that's  all.  I'm  lookin' 
for  a  chance  ter  git  even  with  him,  but  it's  long  a-comin'." 
He  pulled  a  flat  sheet  of  paper  from  his  mooseskin  wallet. 
"See  that?"  he  said.  "That's  what  he  done  to  me, 
the " 

Ducane  picked  up  Dick's  sketch  of  the  wood-buffalo, 
which  was  Robison.  It  was  a  little  blurred  by  damp  and 
rubbing,  but  it  was  unmistakable,  and  cruelly  clever.  Du- 
cane laughed,  holding  it  up  against  the  light. 

"  By  Jove,  he's  got  his  own  idea  of  a  joke,"  he  said. 
"How  long  have  you  had  this?" 

"  Never  you  mind."  Robison  leaned  forward  suddenly. 
"  There's  writin'  on  that  other  side.  Faint  pencil,  an'  I 
never  saw  it  before.  Hand  it  here." 


"THE    YOUNG    GOD    FREY '  119 

He  half-snatched  it  and  read  the  notes  in  Tempest's 
clear  writing  below  the  "  Memorandum.  Royal  North- 
West  Mounted  Police  Force.  Form  No.  ." 

"  I  never  saw  this  before,"  he  said  weakly.  "  I  never 
saw  this  before." 

"What  is  it?"  Ducane  took  it  and  read  it.  Then  he 
sprang  up  with  a  gasp.  Deadly  fear  had  caught  him, 
making  him  cringe  at  the  far-off  threat. 

"  They're  after  us,"  he  cried.  "  Lord !  They're  after 
us.  They  know  what  we're  at." 

There  was  sweat  on  his  face.  He  brought  a  bottle  and 
glasses  to  the  table,  poured  himself  a  stiff  nip,  and  dropped 
back  in  his  chair,  holding  his  glass  with  a  shaking  hand. 
Robison  was  watching  in  the  impenetrable  gravity  of  an 
elephant.  Fear  was  a  thing  outside  his  understanding. 

"  Everyone  knows  Ras  Taylor  took  scrip  last  year  an' 
sold  to  me  this,"  he  said.  "  Don't  make  such  a  row." 

"  They  wouldn't  have  noted  it  unless  they  were  going 

to  do  something,  would  they?  By  ,  perhaps  they've 

got  the  whole  thing  already.  I  shall  clear  out.  I  can't 
stand  this.  They'll  get  me,  the  brutes.  They'll  get 
me." 

Robison's  elemental  brain  felt  dimly  that  he  was  rather 
more  ignored  than  courtesy  demanded. 

"  And  where  do  I  come  in  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  I  reckon 
I'm  as  near  caught  as  you,  any  day.  But  I  reckon  I  can 
lie  my  way  out  of  it  so  far.  An'  so  must  you." 

His  little  red  eyes  were  sharp  on  Ducane.  It  did  not 
occur  to  him  that  any  man  could  baulk  over  the  telling  of 
lies,  for  he  did  not  know  that  this  is  one  of  the  limitations 
which  usually  goes  with  the  honour  of  being  born  a  gentle- 
man. 

"  It  won't  come  to  that.  If  this  damned  Heriot  was 
spiked " 

Ducane  halted  suddenly,  thinking  of  Jennifer.  His  face 
lightened  a  little,  and  he  sat  still.  Robison  heaved  him- 
self up,  standing  with  great  arms  hanging,  more  like  an 
ape  than  ever. 

"  We'll  go  on  as  we've  gone,"  he  said.  "  I'm  not  goin' 
out  of  this  game  till  I  have  to  run  for  it.  There's  money 
in  it,  all  right." 


120  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

"  I  won't  do  any  more,"  Ducane  looked  up  defiantly. 
"  I  won't  go  up  to  Chipewyan.  I " 

"  Yes,  you  will,  too."  Robison  thrust  his  hairy  face 
close.  "  You  don't  go  back  on  me  if  I  know  it,"  he  said. 

"  I  won't  go  to  Chipewyan,"  cried  Ducane.  "  I'm  going 
to  clear  out  of  Grey  Wolf  right  away.  I'm  not  fool 
enough  to  be  caught " 

"  You'll  go  to  Chipewyan,"  said  Robison.  "  An'  you'll 
stay  on  here  till  we're  through  with  our  little  corner.  See? 
I'm  goin'  to  make  enough  out  o'  my  pickin's  to  set  me  up. 
You've  scooped  more  than  your  share  so  far.  But  you'll 
give  me  fair  dues  now,  an'  you  won't  pull  out  till  I'm 
ready." 

His  rough  voice  was  lowered  and  he  scarcely  moved. 
But  Ducane  recognised  the  enormous  brute  force  which 
will  fight  for  what  it  wants,  regardless  of  consequences. 
If  he  played  false  with  Robison  the  man  would  kill  him. 
He  had  known  that  for  some  time,  but  he  shivered  and 
cowered  under  the  knowledge  again. 

"  Heriot  is  a  dog  after  cunning  work,"  he  said.  "  He'll 
get  me " 

"  We'll  light  out  before  that.  He  doesn't  know  much  or 
he'd  have  been  on  to  us  before  now.  This  picture  is  near 
five  months  old.  Never  you  mind  how  I  know  that.  And 
you  keep  your  mouth  shut.  You  don't  tell  your  wife 
things?  You  swore  you  didn't." 

"  I  don't.     No.     But " 

"  You'll  do  as  I  say,"  said  Robison  quietly,  "  or  I  guess 
you'll  likely  get  hurt,  Mr.  Ducane." 

Ducane  fingered  the  sketch  aimlessly,  and  Jennifer,  pass- 
ing the  window  with  the  gladness  of  the  spring  day  in 
her  eyes  and  her  feet,  wondered  at  the  sullen  fear  on  his 
face.  But  she  pushed  thought  of  him  and  of  Robison  from 
her  as  she  climbed  the  hill  where  an  old  Indian  woman 
was  beating  the  frost  from  some  fish-nets  as  she  laid  them 
in  the  sun.  By  the  Indian  burying-ground  the  spirit-offer- 
ings of  old  hardware  were  beginning  to  take  shape  again 
below  the  ridge-pole  coverings,  and  all  the  grey  tender 
branches  of  the  birchwood  along  the  hillside  were  blushing 
with  new  life.  Jennifer  knocked  the  snow  from  a  brown 
saskatoon  branch  and  laughed  at  it. 


"THE  YOUNG  GOD  FREY* 

"  Very  soon  you  will  be  young  again,"  she  told  it,  and 
looked  down  into  the  coulee  beyond,  where  two  shacks  lay 
like  black  thumb-marks  on  white  paper.  Jennifer  caught 
her  breath.  One  of  those  shacks  held  the  ghost  of  the 
woman  who  was  a  weetigo.  The  other  shack  was  Flores- 
tine's.  Jennifer  had  seen  Florestine  in  Grey  Wolf;  a  tall, 
handsome  breed  with  a  very  small  baby  in  a  moss-bag. 
Now  the  baby  was  dead,  killed  yesterday  by  Florestine's 
own  hand,  and  in  some  horrible  way  this  was  connected 
with  the  weetigo.  Jennifer  turned  sick,  remembering  how 
Ducane  had  been  buttering  his  toast  as  he  spoke  of  it 
that  morning. 

"  The  police  will  get  hold  of  it  to-day,"  he  said.  "  Man- 
slaughter, at  the  very  least,  of  course.  Maybe  the  girl  was 
justified.  She  had  to  work  for  the  kid." 

"Where  is  her  husband?"  asked  Jennifer,  nr>d  Ducane 
laughed  uproariously. 

"  Who  knows,"  he  said,  and  Jennifer's  heart  had  surged 
up  in  a  great  wave  of  pity  for  Florestine. 

She  felt  a  reflex  of  that  pity  now  in  this  silent  world 
where  tragedy  had  a  way  of  lying  so  nakedly  to  the  eye. 
Then,  along  the  line  of  trail  that  snaked  round  to  Grey 
Wolf,  she  saw  something  black  that  swung  near,  and  very 
fast.  A  flash  of  light  struck  on  brass  harness;  the  stout 
lines  of  the  barrack-sleigh  shaped  familiarly;  and  sharply, 
almost  without  her  knowledge,  Jennifer  plunged  down  the 
snow-slope  to  reach  the  shack  which  was  Florestine's  before 
the  chain  of  that  unbreakable  patrol  should  loop  round  it 
and  pull  it  in. 

On  the  level  the  way  was  rough  with  little  snow-graves 
that  buried  hay-heaps,  battered  tins,  broken  harness,  and 
loose  lumber.  But  she  stumbled  over  them  with  her  heart 
in  her  throat ;  reached  the  crazy  door  first,  and  turned  with 
her  arm  flung  out  as  though  to  bar  it  against  Tempest 
where  he  came  up  the  trail  behind  her. 

"  You — you  can't  go  in  there,"  she  said  desperately. 

Tempest's  lips  twitched  in  a  brief  smile.  There  was  no 
door  in  all  the  North-West  dared  deny  him  entrance  when 
he  wished  it.  But  his  eyes  were  grave,  for  it  was  errands 
like  this  that  bled  the  heart-blood  out  of  him. 

"  What  made  you  come  ?  "  he  said  gently. 


THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  She  is  sorry."  Jennifer's  voice  dropped  to  whispered 
pleading.  "  She  never  meant  it.  She  did  it  just  in  a 
moment  because  she  was  so  tired,  and  it  cried  so.  She 
never  meant  to  do  it." 

"  Please "  said  Tempest,  and  his  eyes  contracted. 

The  matter  was  painful  enough  without  this. 

"  She  doesn't  know  any  better,"  said  Jennifer.  "  She 
only  knows  about  the  things  that  frighten  her — about  the 
woman  who  was  a  weetigo  and  who  came  in  the  night  and 
wanted  the  baby — and  the  winds  that  make  noises — and 
the  husband  who  was  unkind  to  her.  They  couldn't  have 
her  at  the  Mission  because  you  know  they  are  so  short 
of  money — and  she  was  all  alone — and  the  weetigo  woman 
told  her  to  do  it — and  she  is  so  sorry." 

It  was  the  one  woman's  heart  interpreting  through  this 
girl  the  mother-love  of  all  women.  Tempest  recognised  it. 
But  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  latch. 

"Do  you  think  I  have  no  pity  for  her?"  he  said. 
"  But  I  must  go  in.  I  am  as  much  under  the  law  as 
she  is." 

"  The  law !  "  cried  Jennifer,  and  bit  her  teeth  together. 
"  Oh !  I  think  I  hate  the  law." 

"  You  are  thinking  of  man's  law,"  said  Tempest,  and 
smiled  a  little.  "  I  wasn't  meaning  only  that." 

He  pulled  up  the  latch  and  stepped  over  the  threshold 
with  that  quiet  manner  of  his  which  seemed  to  carry  the 
hush  of  finality  with  it.  Jennifer  heard  the  half-choked 
cry  as  Florestine  saw  him,  and  it  drove  home  the  truth  of 
his  words.  In  order  that  the  world  may  go  on  sin  must 
be  punished,  rooted  out,  crushed  into  death.  Nature  de- 
mands it,  and  opposite  the  neglect  of  this  law  she  sets  the 
extinction  and  the  degradation  of  the  race.  Jennifer  stood 
for  a  little  in  the  great  white  day  with  bowed  head.  Then 
she  followed  Tempest  into  the  shack. 

It  was  very  cold  in  the  shack,  for  Florestine  had  made 
no  fire  since  the  baby  died.  It  smelt  of  moose-skin  and 
coal-oil  and  all  airless  greasiness  and  wood-smoke.  Near 
the  burnt-out  lamp  on  the  rough  table  lay  a  pair  of  half- 
finished  moccasins  with  the  strips  of  white  doe-skin  and 
the  litter  of  beads  and  gay  silks.  Florestine  had  been 
working  on  them  for  an  order  when  the  peevish  crying  of 


"THE    YOUNG   GOD    FREY '  123 

the  baby  had  started  her  up  from  the  box  overturned  on 
the  earth  floor.  There  were  pans  and  dirty  pots  about;  a 
pair  of  snow-shoes  flung  off  in  a  corner ;  the  black  shawl 
Florestine  wore  over  her  head  when  she  went  to  Grey 
Wolf,  and,  where  the  light  of  the  day  swamped  the  dark- 
ness, Florestine  on  a  stool,  holding  her  baby,  and  Tem- 
pest kneeled  on  one  knee  beside  her. 

Jennifer  halted,  half-ashamed.  For  Florestine  needed 
no  rescue  from  the  mercilessnrss  of  the  law-bringer.  Tem- 
pest was  stroking  the  brown  scrap  of  flesh  that  made  the 
infinitely  cold  baby  cheek  with  a  gentle  forefinger,  and  his 
tone  as  he  spoke  in  his  broken  Cree-French  was  tender- 
ness made  wise. 

He  had  drawn  from  her  with  such  skill  that  she  did  not 
know  it  the  few  necessary  words  he  wanted,  and  now  he 
was  trying  to  draw  from  her  the  dead  child.  For  her  long 
bitter  journey  to  Fort  Saskatchewan  must  begin  in  the 
morning.  The  girl  was  numb  with  the  cold  and  dazed 
with  hunger  and  terror.  The  ghost  of  the  woman  who  was 
a  weetigo  had  shrieked  at  her  hourly,  demanding  the  soft 
body  as  well  as  the  life  already  given.  She  clutched  it, 
staring  at  Tempest  with  eyes  that  were  softening. 

"  Astum,"  said  Tempest,  and  slid  his  firm  hands  about 
it.  "Ah,  le  petit  napasis.  I  take  him,  Florestine. 

Q  ** 

A  moment  Florestine  rebelled.  Then  she  let  go.  Jen- 
nifer held  her  breath.  There  was  no  denying  that  quiet 
power.  Tempest  stood  up  with  his  light  burden,  and 
Florestine  spoke. 

"  I  want  him  not  cry — and  now  I  want  him  cry,"  she 
said  in  the  mixed  language  that  Tempest  only  understood. 
And  he  had  no  answer  for  it,  because  it  was  the  unexplain- 
able  tragedy  of  impatient  human  life  in  a  sentence. 

The  grunt  of  runners  packing  in  the  snow  came  from 
without  sharpened  by  the  snap  of  a  whip  as  Kennedy 
pulled  the  pie-bald  barrack  pony  back  on  its  haunches. 
Dick  ploughed  through  the  snow  to  the  door  where  Tem- 
pest met  him,  and  Florestine's  eyes  followed  in  the  dumb 
submission  of  a  dog.  Tempest  spoke  low  and  quickly. 
Both  men  looked  at  Jennifer,  and  then  Tempest  came  to 
her. 


THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

"  I  am  taking  Florestine  back  with  me,"  he  said.  "  And 
you'd  best  go  home  at  once,  Mrs.  Ducane.  There's  a  storm 
corning,  I  fancy.  Those  look  like  snow-clouds." 

Jennifer  realised  suddenly  that  the  sun  was  gone  and 
that  a  cold  restless  wind  was  plucking  at  the  shack-cor- 
ners. But  she  did  not  heed. 

"Who  is  taking  her  down  to  Fort  Saskatchewan?"  she 
asked. 

"  Kennedy.      To-morrow   morning." 

Jennifer  glanced  at  the  ruddy  youth. 

"  Oh,  will  he  know  enough  ?  "  she  said.  "  Will  he  be 
kind  to  her?  " 

"  Why,  he'll  do  his  best,"  Tempest  smiled.  "  He's  a 
good  lad.  But  I'll  speak  to  him  if  you  like." 

He  beckoned  Kennedy. 

"  Mrs.  Ducane  is  very  anxious  that  this  poor  girl  should 
be  well  looked  after,"  he  said.  "  I  told  her  you'd  do  your 
best.  Isn't  that  so?  " 

"  Aha,"  said  Kennedy,  scarlet  with  shyness.  "  All  right, 
Sergeant.  Cert'nly." 

Tempest's  glance  passed  to  the  motionless  Florestine. 

"  I  think  you  would  be  wise  to  go,  Mrs.  Ducane,"  he 
said.  "  We  may  get  bad  snow  out  of  this.  You  know 
what  the  spring  storms  are." 

Jennifer  went  obediently,  with  a  curious  sense  of  im- 
potence. These  men  whose  ways  lay  so  much  among 
rough  men  and  rough  work  needed  no  teaching  from  her 
in  the  matters  of  gentleness  and  forethought.  She  could 
not  have  handled  Florestine  as  Tempest  had  done,  and 
she  believed  that  Tempest  had  made  more  of  the  storm  so 
that  she  should  not  have  the  pain  of  seeing  them  take  Flor- 
estine away. 

Then  she  realised  that  the  storm  was  very  much  more 
than  a  thing  of  Tempest's  imagination,  and  along  the  flank 
of  the  hill  she  hurried  with  all  her  strength,  feeling  the 
chill  bite  of  the  wind  on  her  face.  A  flake  of  wet  snow, 
chill  as  the  forerunner  of  a  blizzard,  struck  her,  and  she 
lowered  her  head,  pushing  against  it  with  her  long  swift 
snow-shoe  swing.  Already  the  distances  were  shortening 
down  with  the  mist  that  brought  the  snow.  The  wind  in 
her  skirts  held  her  back  and  tired  her,  and  the  cold  began 


"THE    YOUNG   GOD    FREY>!  125 

to  strike  home  to  her  thinly-clad  body.  It  had  been  so 
warm  this  morning,  she  told  herself.  No  one  would  have 
expected  this.  And  there  were  four  miles  of  bare  saddle- 
backs before  her  yet.  Four  miles  where  she  would  catch 
the  storm  full.  But  she  dared  not  go  back  to  the  shacks. 
There  would  be  no  one  there  now  but  the  ghost  of  the 
woman  who  was  a  weetigo.  All  about  her  the  trees  were 
moaning;  bending  uneasily  in  the  wind-puffs,  and  slough- 
ing the  snow  where  they  could,  as  though  in  preparation 
for  what  was  coming.  Then  the  snow  began  in  earnest. 
Sleety  masses  with  the  wetness  of  spring  in  them,  but  cold 
enough  for  mid-winter.  The  wind  buffeted  and  blinded 
her  and  took  her  breath. 

"  I  must  go  on,"  she  gasped.  "  I  must.  But  it's  so 
cold.  It's  so  cold."  She  was  sobbing  in  her  throat;  stum- 
bling, numb,  worn-out  with  her  struggle  and  the  grasp  of 
the  cold  on  her.  Her  skirts  grew  wet  and  dragged  her 
down.  She  dropped  at  last;  too  exhausted  to  care,  though 
it  meant  death.  That  wind  was  beating  the  breath  out  of 
her.  And  the  snow  was  cold.  So  cold. 

Then  strong  arms  came  round  her,  and  someone  swung 
her  up,  holding  her  close,  and  a  human  voice  came  to  her 
out  of  somewhere. 

"  There's  a  shack  down  here.  We'll  get  under  shelter. 
All  right.  It's  all  right  now." 

Jennifer  was  past  words.  She  clung  to  Dick  weakly  as 
to  something  warm  and  alive.  And  then  the  tearing  noisy 
storm  was  shut  out  with  the  banging  of  the  shack  door  and 
she  slid  down  on  a  pile  of  musty  blue-joint  grass.  Dick 
was  pulling  his  gloves  off  and  rubbing  her  cheeks  between 
his  strong  warm  hands. 

"  You've  half-frozen,"  he  said.  "  You  poor  child.  Why 
did  we  let  you  go?  Why  did  we  let  you  go!  Is  that  bet- 
ter? I  can  see  the  blood  coming  back.  Now  your  hands. 
And  how  about  your  feet?  I'll  get  a  fire  directly.  You 
poor  child." 

"  I  would  have  died,"  she  sobbed.  "  I  would  have  died 
if  you  hadn't  come." 

"  Not  you.  These  storms  don't  last  long  enough.  But 
you  might  have  got  badly  chilled.  Wait  a  minute  and  I'll 
make  a  fire." 


126  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

He  brought  branches  with  the  snow  knocked  off  them; 
fed  a  small  flame  in  the  chimney-place  with  the  grass,  and 
presently  the  fire  leapt  up,  warm  and  ruddy.  Jennifer  was 
shivering  and  trembling,  and  her  skirt  dripped  as  she 
stood  up. 

"  Put  on  my  slicker,"  said  Dick,  and  flung  off  the  long 
yellow  waterproof  he  wore.  "  And  get  out  of  those  skirts 
at  once,  while  I  bring  some  more  wood." 

"  Oh,  thank  you.  Thank  you.  How  good  you  are  to 
me.  And  you  came  after  me  through  that  storm " 

"  I'd  go  through  more  than  that."  He  broke  the  sen- 
tence. "  Take  those  wet  things  off,"  he  said,  and  went  out 
hurriedly. 

Outside  he  stood  still  with  his  back  to  the  storm,  and  a 
curious  light  in  his  eyes.  Those  moments  when  he  held 
Jennifer  in  his  arms  had  shaken  him  much.  He  seemed  to 
feel  the  softness  and  the  lightness  of  her  there  yet.  Some 
months  ago  he  had  been  startled  when  he  first  realised 
that  Jennifer  was  becoming  a  factor  in  his  life.  Then  he 
had  been  amused.  He  had  played  with  the  idea,  letting  it 
grow,  interested  to  find  that  the  sound  of  her  step  and  of 
her  voice  could  give  him  so  much  pleasure.  He  believed 
that  the  power  to  love ;  the  power  to  be  excited ;  the  power 
to  feel  very  warmly  about  anything  on  earth  had  gone  out 
from  him.  He  rejoiced  in  the  thought  that  it  had  come 
back.  It  seemed  to  lift  the  chill  that  was  deadening  his 
life. 

"  I  can  care  still,"  he  told  himself.  "  Tempest — I  am 
sure  I  care  for  Tempest.  And  now  this  little  girl." 

The  thought  delighted  him.  It  seemed  to  put  colour  into 
existence  once  more.  He  was  in  love  with  love.  He  felt 
like  a  man  who  walks  again  after  a  long  illness.  And  then 
gradually  the  amusement  and  the  pleasure  faded  off  the 
sensation,  leaving  him  face  to  face  with  the  naked  fact. 
This  love  was  not  any  longer  a  thing  to  be  played  with  and 
petted.  It  was  flaming  into  a  strength  that  he  had  not  be- 
lieved was  left  in  him.  And  it  flamed  the  fiercer  because 
he  saw  how  little  she  guessed  at  it,  and  saw,  too,  where  she 
stood  just  now,  unguarded,  undefended,  with  her  love  for 
Ducane  crumbling  round  her. 

Jennifer  was  laughing  over  the  fire  when  he  came  back. 


"THE    YOUNG   GOD    FREY  *  127 

"  I  couldn't  help  being  such  a  baby,"  she  said.  "  I  really 
did  feel  as  if  I'd  got  to  the  end  of  all  things." 

"  Doesn't  it  feel  like  a  horrible  slump  back  to  earth 
now?  " 

"  It  hardly  seemed  like  earth  when  you  picked  me  up 
and  ran  with  me." 

Dick  turned  quickly.  But  her  eyes  were  frank  as  Slick- 
er's own. 

"  We  are  going  to  be  late  for  dinner,"  she  said.  "  And 
I'm  hungry  already.  You  haven't  got  anything  edible 
about  you,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Only  tobacco,  I'm  sorry  to  say.  But  the  worst  of  it 
is  over.  Did  you  wring  your  skirts  out?  Let  me  do  it." 

He  did  it  with  a  serene  self-possession  which  made  her 
laugh  again. 

"  How  many  varied  chores  do  you  police  have  to  do 
through  your  time  of  service  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Why — I  think  it  is  as  well  they  are  not  tabulated  for 
us  beforehand.  It  would  take  a  brave  man  to  face  them 
in  the  bulk.  It  is  a  queer  life,  and  we  get  inside  some 
funny  family  histories.  Are  you  warm  now?"  He  took 
her  hand.  "  I  feel  that  this  is  partly  my  fault,  you  know," 
he  said. 

"  Oh,  no ;  "  she  smiled  at  him.  "  But  it  was  so  good  of 
you  to  come." 

She  looked  such  a  little  thing  with  the  wet  crisping  on 
her  bright  hair  above  the  collar  of  his  slicker  and  the  glow 
of  the  cold  on  her  cheeks.  The  touch  and  the  look  of  her 
moved  him  powerfully.  Then  he  stooped  to  the  fire  again. 
For  the  moment  he  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak. 

But  Jennifer  chattered  gaily.  The  adventurous  spirit 
in  her  delighted  in  even  such  a  small  thing  as  this,  and  she 
talked  until  presently  her  tongue  strayed  on  Ducane's 
name. 

"  I  hope  he  won't  be  anxious.  He  was  with  Robison, 
and  he  didn't  see  me  go." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "     Dick  looked  round  suddenly. 

"  Why,  certainly.  I  called  in  to  him  through  the  dining- 
room  window,  but  he  didn't  hear.  He  was  looking  over 
one  of  your  sketches,  I  think.  An  animal — it  looked  like 
a  buffalo.  And  Robison  was  scowling  so." 


128  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

« 

Dick's  face  was  accustomed  to  hide  what  his  brain 
felt 

"That  sounds  to  be  rather  a  left-handed  compliment/' 
he  said.  "  People  are  usually  good  enough  to  say  they 
don't  have  to  guess  twice  at  my  efforts." 

"  Well,  if  you  ask  them  they  couldn't  do  less." 

"  You  could,  I  think,"  said  Dick,  smiling. 

"  That  is  left-handed—straight  from  the  shoulder.  It 
did  really  look  like  a  buffalo,  but  if  you'll  tell  me  you 
meant  it  for  a  pig  I'll  agree  to  that,  too.  I  can't  discour- 
age you  when  you've  been  so  nice  to  me." 

"  You  discourage  me  every  time  I  see  you." 

"I  do?    How?" 

Before  those  clear,  astonished  eyes  his  own  fell. 

"  Because  I  can  never  make  out  the  real  colours  in  your 
hair  and  eyes,  and  I'm  supposed  to  be  more  or  less  of  an 
artist,"  he  said. 

Jennifer  laughed,  and  over  the  fire  the  talk  slid  down 
more  intimate  channels  than  it  had  touched  yet.  It  had 
set  them  on  a  new  but  undefined  basis  when  the  storm  was 
passed  and  Dick  took  her  home  under  a  sullen  sky,  leaving 
her  on  the  threshold  with  an  excuse  when  she  would  have 
made  him  come  in.  He  preferred  to  take  the  long  walk 
straight  back  to  the  barracks,  for  the  last  few  hours  had 
shaken  him  out  of  his  usual  cynical  indifference  more  than 
he  believed  possible.  The  poise  of  Jennifer's  head;  her 
quick  movements;  her  merry  laugh  and  ways,  and  that 
alluring  allusive  tragedy  in  her  eyes  had  fired  the  very 
depths  of  him.  He  would  not  think  of  her  now.  He  would 
not  think  of  what  it  was  going  to  mean  when  she  knew 
what  he  was  doing  for  Ducane ;  when  she  knew  what  he 
was  making  her  do.  Resolutely  he  turned  his  mind  from 
her  on  to  Ogilvie  and  Robison.  For  that  sketch  was  with- 
out doubt  the  missing  sketch  of  Robison,  and  therefore, 
equally  without  doubt,  one  or  both  of  those  two  men  had 
seen  Ogilvie  after  he  was  supposed  to  have  disappeared 
from  mortal  knowledge.  The  eager  light  came  back  to  his 
eyes,  and  he  walked  fast,  with  that  hound-mind  of  his 
snuffing  swiftly  along  this  new  bend  in  the  trail. 

Ducane  met  Jennifer  in  the  passage.  He  had  missed 
her,  and  had  gone  to  the  whiskey-bottle  for  comfort,  as 


"THE    YOUNG   GOD    FREY*  129 

he  had  done  too  often  of  late.    He  caught  her  arm,  speak- 
ing high  and  thickly. 

"  Where  have  you  been?  Where  have  you  been,  Jenny? 
I  wanted  you.  Was  that  Heriot  with  you?  Jenny,  he's 
going  to  get  me  cornered,  that  fellow.  He's  going  to  get 
me  if  you  can't  switch  him  off.  He's  going " 

"  Hush !  "  She  drew  him  into  the  sitting-room  and  shut 
the  door.  "What  is  it?  Why  are  you  afraid  of  Mr. 
Heriot?  " 

Ducane  dropped  his  red  face  in  his  hands  and  whim- 
pered. 

"  I  can't  tell  you,"  he  said.  "  I  can't,  Jenny,  girl. 
There  are  too  many  in  it  besides  me.  And  I  promised. 
I — I  don't  know  what  to  do.  We  might  fool  Tempest. 
He  knows  something,  likely.  But  the  other  fellow's  the 
devil.  You  could  never  bounce  him  and  you  could  never 
square  him.  A  man  hasn't  the  ghost  of  a  chance  with  him. 
But  a  woman  could  handle  him.  I've  heard  what  he's  like. 
You  could  keep  him  off  me " 

"  Stop !  "  said  Jennifer.  She  struck  her  shut  hands 
down  by  her  sides,  and  her  teeth  snapped  together. 
"  Oh,  you  coward ! "  she  cried.  "  You  coward !  You 
coward !  " 

Rage  and  fear  whipped  Ducane  up  on  his  feet. 

"  Don't  you  take  that  tone  with  me,"  he  blustered.  "  I'm 
doing  my  share,  and  why  shouldn't  you  do  yours?  Damn 
it,  is  it  all  to  fall  on  me?  If  I  can  manage  to  stand  it  out 
a  couple  more  months  we'll  skip,  and  then  they  can  take 
Robison  if  they  like." 

"  Oh !  Robison  is  what  they  call  a  fence  for  you,  is 
he?" 

"  Don't  I  tell  you  there  are  more  than  me — Jenny,  don't 
look  at  me  that  way,  my  girl.  I  love  you.  I — I  can't  get 

along  without  you,  Jenny.     By ,  I  love  you  too  much 

for  that.     Don't  be  mad  with  me,  little  girl." 

He  came  to  her  unsteadily  with  his  hands  out.  Jenni- 
fer stood  very  still.  In  some  strange  way  Ducane's  mis- 
ery seemed  to  pass  her  by,  leaving  her  cold.  She  found 
herself  wondering  how  Dick  would  behave  if  any  man 
tried  to  corner  him.  Or — what  was  it  Harry  had  said? 
He  couldn't  be  bounced  or  squared,  but  a  woman  could 


ISO  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

handle  him.  Was  that  true?  She  laid  her  hand  on  Du- 
cane's  arm. 

"  Sit  down  and  tell  me  all  you  can  about  it,  Harry,"  she 
said  gently. 

To  Tempest,  driving  Florestine  back  to  the  barracks, 
came  a  sudden  glimpse  of  that  tragedy  which  is  often 
wound  up  with  the  simplest  of  lives.  In  the  woods  where 
the  mist  drove  now  on  the  snowy  wind,  his  pony  shied 
from  a  trapper  who  had  dragged  his  hand-sled  off  the  trail, 
standing  to  watch  them  pass.  At  Tempest's  side  Flores- 
tine gave  a  little  cry  and  pulled  her  shawl  over  her  face. 
Then  the  pony  sprang  past,  snorting  and  fighting  the  bit, 
and  Tempest  looked  down  at  the  girl. 

"  Who  was  it?  "  he  asked.  "  Not  your  husband,  Flores- 
tine?" 

"  Tommy  Joseph,"  breathed  Florestine  through  her 
shawl.  But  the  name  being  unfamiliar  to  Tempest,  he 
thought  no  more  of  it  until  Kennedy  ushered  Tommy  Jo- 
seph into  the  office  where  he  made  up  his  reports  a  half 
hour  later. 

Tempest  pushed  aside  his  papers  and  looked  up,  remem- 
bering the  man  vaguely  as  one  of  the  many  sturdy  trap- 
pers who  came  in  each  spring  for  the  Hudson  Bay  tracking. 

"You  wanted  to  see  me?"  he  asked. 

Tommy  Joseph  nodded.  He  had  spent  three  days  at 
Grey  Wolf  at  the  New  Year.  Then  he  had  gone  again 
for  the  spring  hunt,  and  now  he  had  come  back,  hauling 
his  loaded  sled  of  furs  a  hundred  miles  and  over  for  the 
prospect  of  regular  meals  and  regular  work  when  he  and 
the  men  of  last  season  would  sail  the  big  scows  north  be- 
hind the  outgoing  ice  to  bring  again  the  furs  of  fall.  He 
was  thin  with  starvation  and  hard  work  in  the  woods, 
and  all  the  cheer  was  out  of  his  gaunt,  dark  face.  His 
clothes  were  ragged  utterly,  and  he  gripped  his  fur  cap  in 
both  hands  as  he  spoke  with  a  struggle  to  find  his  English. 

"You  say  to  me  where  est  1'homme  de  Florestine?"  he 
began,  and  Tempest  saw  the  muscles  working  in  his  strong 
throat. 

"  I  do  not  Know,"  said  Tempest.  "  He  went  trapping 
last  fall.  She  has  not  heard  of  him  since." 

"Urrrh!"   said   Tommy  Joseph.     Then  he   shifted   on 


"THE    YOUNG   GOD    FREY "  131 

the  tired  feet  that  had  carried  him  thirty  miles  that  day. 
"  Him  bad,"  he  said.  "  S'pose  vous  know  dat?  Flores- 
tine  no  laike  heem.  I  want  her  come  wit  me  to  de  trap- 
ping by'm  bye  apres  de  Nouvelle  Year.  She  mak'  cry ; 
mais  she  no  come." 

He  looked  straight  at  Tempest  with  the  bright  keen 
eyes  of  his  kind. 

"  She  goot  girl/'  he  said. 

And  Tempest,  not  forgetting  that  which  had  been  in  the 
shack,  said,  "  I  believe  you." 

Tommy  Joseph  twisted  his  cap  rapidly,  as  though  try- 
ing to  engender  some  new  force  to  aid  him. 

"  S'pose  vous  let  go?  "  he  burst  out  at  last.  "  She  goot 
girl." 

Tempest  leant  over  the  desk. 

"You  know  better  than  to  ask  that,  don't  you?"  he 
said,  compassionately. 

Tommy  Joseph  twirled  his  cap  again. 

"Mebbe  si  moi  was  in  dat  shack  moi  mak'  keel  dat 
bebe,"  he  suggested. 

"  Maybe,"  agreed  Tempest.  "  But  you  were  not.  She 
will  have  to  go  down  to  Fort  Saskatchewan,  Tommy.  But 
I  am  glad  you  told  me  this.  I  will  certainly  put  it  in  the 
report." 

"  I  mak'  weesh  to  been  in  dat  shack,  moi,"  said  Tommy 
Joseph.  Then,  underbreath,  "  Mak'  take,  no  can  let  go. 
Fonny,  dat."  He  backed  to  the  door  with  head  bent. 
"  Merci  much,"  he  said,  and  went  out  in  silence. 

Tempest  drew  out  the  report  carefully.  But  this  naked 
little  tragedy  could  not  hold  him  for  long.  Because  he 
had  been  a  lonely  reserved  man  for  so  many  years  the 
thought  and  sense  of  Andree  filled  his  world  up  now,  and 
her  with  drawals  and  desperate  shynesses  fitted  the  deli- 
cacy of  his  dream  too  well.  He  never  saw  her  as  other 
men  saw  her,  and  he  never  spoke  with  her  as  other  men 
spoke,  so  that  Dick,  busy  with  his  own  troubles,  knew 
nothing  of  this  thing  until  Slicker  pulled  the  scales  from 
his  eyes  one  day  at  the  English  Mission  School. 

In  the  bale-room  the  deaconess  was  selling  to  a  succes- 
sion of  Reserve  Indians  the  mixed  contents  of  the  bales 
•which  came  up  yearly  from  the  Eastward  side,  and  Slicker 


THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

was  driving  her  to  the  verge  of  hysterics  under  the  loudly- 
expressed  belief  that  he  was  "  helping."  Dick  laughed, 
and  knelt  on  one  knee  to  tie  a  slant-eyed  solid  girl  into  a 
white  silk  baby  bonnet. 

"  Now,  now,"  he  said ;  "  when  we're  doing  the  parents 
yeoman  service,  too !  This  girl  has  never  had  her  points 
properly  shown  up  before.  How  much  for  the  bonnet, 
Meyo?  One  dollar?  Don't  you  think  it?  Two,  Meyo, 
when  you  hev'  such  a  very  attractive  piece  of  live  goods  to 
hang  it  on." 

The  faded,  black-shawled  mother  and  the  brawny  hus- 
band grinned  doubtfully,  and  Miss  Chubb  snatched  the 
bonnet  away. 

"  You've  a  right  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Corporal," 
she  cried.  "  Why,  I  was  just  beginning  to  take  an  interest 
in  that  girl,"  complained  Dick.  "  Sell  her  that  blue  ki- 
mono thing,  too,  and  she'll  get  a  husband  to-morrow. 
You've  spoiled  a  promising  career,  Miss  Chubb.  Hallo, 
kiddy!" 

Slicker  presented  a  two-year-old  buttoned  into  trousers 
that  swept  the  floor. 

"  I  imagine  that'll  about  do  the  trick,"  he  said.  "  Keep 
him  warm  right  alone  till  he's  grown  up,  eh?  Hallo, 
sonny.  Don't  walk  all  over  yourself." 

"  Sakes,"  gasped  Miss  Chubb.  "  Oh,  this  is  fierce. 
Slicker,  it's  a  girl." 

She  collapsed  weakly  on  a  bale  of  quilts  and  laughed, 
mopping  her  eyes.  "  What  in  the  nation  am  I  to  do  with 
you  two  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Take  us  into  partnership,"  suggested  Dick  unabashed. 
"  We'd  get  through  more  trade  in  a  day  than  you  would  in 
three  weeks.  Hustle  around  that  fellow  over  there,  Slicker. 
He's  tried  on  every  mortal  garment  that  we  have,  and  his 
pockets  are  bulging  with  bills  yet." 

Miss  Chubb  looked  round  the  bale-room  where  the  rows 
of  shelves  dripped  the  unfolded  ends  of  every  kind  of  gar- 
ment. For  over  two  hours  brown  fingers  had  pulled  and 
brown  critical  eyes  stared  at  them  and  brown  flat  noses 
smelt  them.  She  was  needed  in  the  school-yard  where  the 
children  were  quarrelling  shrilly;  she  was  needed  in  the 
kitchen  where  her  young  helper  struggled  to  make  up  a 


"THE    YOUNG   GOD    FREY"  133 

meal  for  ten  hungry  mouths  on  limited  resources;  she  was 
needed  in  the  sewing-room  where  piles  of  kneeless  knick- 
erbockers and  toeless  stockings  gaped  for  her.  And  she 
was  needed  here  so  long  as  the  swarthy  breeds  and  silent 
Indians  chose  to  circle  those  walls  and  buy  the  worth  of 
a  dollar. 

"  Oh,  it's  fierce,"  she  said  again.  "  And  here  are  some 
more  coming." 

Slicker  looked  from  the  window.  Then  he  hugged  him- 
self. 

"  Tell  me  all  the  things  you  want  to  get  rid  of,"  he  said. 
"Quick!  I'll  make  Mrs.  Taemana  buy  them.  She  can't 
ever  say  no." 

"  Happy  Taemana,"  murmured  Dick.  "  Was  it  a  kiss 
you  asked  for,  Slicker  ?  " 

"  No.  This  was  at  the  Hudson  Bay  Indian  kick-up  at 
New  Year.  I  stroked  her  for  an  hour  and  she  never  let 
up  to  take  breath.  I — I — well,  frankly,  I  did  think  she'd 
burst.  '  Aha,'  she  said  to  everything  I  brought.  '  Aha.'  " 

"  Sorry  I  can't  assure  you  that  your  persuasive  manner 
was  to  blame,"  said  Dick  lazily.  "  My  dear  Slicker,  don't 
you  know  that  it  is  vulgar  for  an  Indian  to  refuse  food? 
Mrs.  Taemana,  being  a  specimen  of  high-bred  society, 
couldn't  refuse  if  she  died  for  it.  By  the  bye,  I  did  hear 
that  de  Choiseaux  was  called  in  afterwards.  Not  that  that 
has  any  connection,  of  course." 

"  She's  a  dear  old  soul,"  said  Miss  Chubb.  "  I'm  very 
fond  of  her,  Mr.  Heriot." 

"  It  is  constant  balm  to  a  man  to  find  how  fond  women 
are  of  their  sex,"  said  Dick.  "  Now,  practically  the  only 
bond  between  men  is  the  struggle  for  existence.  We  grant 
a  man  the  right  to  live — off  us,  if  he's  clever  enough ;  but 
we  don't  take  much  personal  interest  in  the  matter.  It  is 
the  ladies  who  provide  the  encouragement — and  the  need 
for  it." 

Miss  Chubb  did  not  care  to  look  at  his  eyes.  She  had 
never  cared  to  look  at  them  since  she  caught  them  watch- 
ing her  one  day  when  Tempest  passed. 

"  I'll  give  you  plenty  of  encouragement  to  remove 
Slicker  right  now,"  she  said.  "  He  keeps  me  too  busy  to 
do  anything." 


134  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Dick  departed  with  his  fingers  down  Slicker's  collar; 
but  outside  the  yard  where  the  school-children  played  at 
the  swings,  noisy  with  the  fret  of  spring  that  would  soon 
call  them  to  the  woods  again,  Slicker  freed  himself. 

"  I  have  been  wanting  to  catch  you  alone  for  a  week, 
Dick,"  he  said.  "  Of  course  you  know  what  people  are 
saying  about  Tempest  and  Grange's  Andree?" 

Dick  shrugged  his  shoulders.  The  idle  talk  had  galled 
him  extremely;  but  he  had  never  considered  it  his  mission 
to  interfere  in  the  affairs  of  other  men. 

"  Your  perspicacity  does  you  credit,"  he  said  dryly. 

Slicker  flushed.  His  eyes  had  not  lost  the  look  of 
youth's  dreams;  but  he  was  growing  more  conscious  of  his 
manhood  every  day. 

"  You  must  stop  it,"  he  cried.  "  I  hate  to  have  anything 
said  against  Tempest." 

"  Do  you?  Well,  so  do  I,  Slicker.  But  don't  you  un- 
derstand that  no  silly  talk  can  touch  him?  He  fathers  and 
mothers  the  whole  of  Grey  Wolf,  and  if  Andree  gets  more 
than  her  share — well,  she  is  uncommonly  pretty,  you 
know.  As  men  of  the  world,  Slicker,  we  must  allow  Tem- 
pest a  few  human  failings.  His  virtues  insist  that  they 
shall  be  very  few,  poor  devil." 

"  But  he  loves  her." 

"  That  remark,"  said  Dick,  lighting  his  pipe,  "  is  un- 
worthy of  your  intellect." 

"  But  it's  true !  I  saw  him  kissing  her  hands  only  yes- 
terday." 

"  You  what?  " 

Slicker  repeated  his  assertion,  and  Dick  dropped  the 
match  and  put  his  foot  on  it.  He  would  have  put  it  on 
Andree  with  as  little  compunction  just  then.  Tempest  and 
Jennifer  were  the  only  beautiful  things  in  his  world,  and 
the  mere  suggestion  of  this  sickened  him.  He  looked  at  the 
boy  narrowly. 

"  Of  course  he  was  only  taking  out  a  sliver,"  he  said. 
"  But  even  so  it  is  hardly  worth  talking  about,  is  it?  And 
the  kind  of  scandal  Grey  Wolf  amuses  itself  with  is  hardly 
worth  dabbling  in,  either." 

He  went  on,  leaving  Slicker  abashed  and  unconvinced, 
and  totally  unaware  of  the  shock  which  he  had  given  the 


"THE    YOUNG   GOD    FREY'  135 

elder  man.  And  it  was  a  severe  shock.  Dick,  walking  fast 
through  the  forest-trail,  acknowledged  it.  His  punish- 
ment for  the  many  wrong-doings  of  his  life  was  the  pun- 
ishment of  the  young  god  Frey  who  sat  in  Odin's  seat  and 
saw  too  far  and  too  clear  for  his  comfort.  Dick  had 
rli-ctfd  to  sit  in  Odin's  seat  of  wisdom,  and  he  saw  to  the 
heart  of  this  thing,  swift  and  sure.  Looking  on  Tempest 
as  plain  man  it  was  quite  likely  true,  for  all  things  are 
possible  to  a  plain  man.  Looking  on  him  as  Dick  had 
learned  to  look  the  thing  was  unthinkable — a  blasphemy. 
With  a  queer  quirk  of  the  mind  he  remembered  Miss 
Chubb's  favourite  expletive. 

"  It's  fierce,"  he  heard  her  saying.    Then  laughed. 

"  By  all  means  let  us  believe  in  the  gods  until  we  see 
their  graves,"  he  said. 

Through  the  white  silence  about  him  came  the  clang  of 
the  wild  geese  flying  north,  ever  north  to  those  long  rivers 
he  knew  so  well.  Their  "  honk-honk  "  dropped  down  from 
sheer  overhead  as  they  passed;  a  wedge  driven  fast  and 
far  through  the  crystal  air,  with  eager  necks  and  high-beat- 
ing hearts.  Down  in  the  trail  the  man  who  had  learnt  too 
much  felt  his  heart  leap  up  to  them  with  longing.  They 
took  their  straight-way ;  unknowing ;  unafraid.  No  wrong- 
doing bore  their  white  wings  down ;  no  shame  slacked  their 
impulses.  They  forswore  no  good  and  learnt  the  grief 
thereof.  They  passed  by  no  God  and  learnt  the  fear. 
These  things  were  reserved  for  mankind;  for  Dick;  for 
Tempest;  for  Jennifer.  Because  to  them  had  been  given 
the  inestimable  privilege  of  a  soul. 

Down  in  the  narrow  trail  among  the  dark  pines  Dick 
smothered  a  sigh  that  was  half  a  curse,  and  went  on  with 
the  softening  snow  slipping  under  his  feet. 

On  the  outskirts  of  Grey  Wolf  he  met  a  freighter  suf- 
fering from  over-indulgence  in  toilet  vinegar  and  vanilla- 
essence. 

"  It  gives  a  chap  the  good  feel,"  he  explained,  as  Dick 
helped  him  into  the  barracks  and  applied  drastic  remedies. 
"  A  man  must  drink  something." 

"  My  friend,"  said  Dick.  "  There  you  speak  a  great 
truth.  But  usually  the  last  thing  that  man  drinks  is  re- 
pentance. Now,  I  should  advise  you  to  get  into  the  absti- 


136  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

nence  business  right  away  or  you'll  be  all  tied  up  again 
before  you  know  it.  Good-night  to  you." 

And  then  he  went  down  to  Grange's  bar  and  stayed 
there  long.  For  the  knowledge  of  the  young  god  Frey 
was  heavy  on  him. 

His  lagging  feet  halted  him  at  the  mess-room  door  be- 
fore he  went  upstairs  that  night.  Tempest  was  there; 
smoking,  and  dreaming  over  a  ragged  little  book  of  Norse 
verse.  Dick  watched  him  through  the  door,  and  his  heart 
lightened.  Tempest  was  sure;  sure  as  the  moon  and  the 
stars,  and  as  high  above  earth. 

He  looked  up  at  Dick's  tread,  waving  his  pipe. 

"  Come  on,  come  on,"  he  said.     "  I've  got  an  idea  here." 

It  was  the  impetuous  manner  of  the  days  when  they  had 
loved  without  doubt  or  pain.  The  other  man  felt  the  call 
of  it  to  his  heart  again,  and  his  eyes  were  sombre  as  he 
dropped  into  a  chair  and  stretched  his  legs.  Life  had 
broken  him,  but  he  felt  a  shudder  of  deadly  fear  at  the 
thought  that  it  might  break  Tempest. 

"You  remember  your  Edda  geography,  Dick?"  Tem- 
pest was  glowing  with  his  idea.  "  Niflheim,  the  land  of 
snow  eternal  in  the  north,  and  Muspelheim,  the  land  of 
quenchless  fire  in  the  south " 

"  And  Ginungagap,  the  bottomless  abyss  separating 
them,"  yawned  Dick. 

"  Yes.  But  don't  you  see  why?  That's  the  germ  of  it, 
and  it  never  struck  me  before.  It  was  there  so  they 
couldn't  meet  in  an  earthly  way.  You  remember  how 
those  two  great  forces  did  meet?  In  mid-air,  with  all  of 
coarseness  sloughed  off  them.  The  cold  clear  spray  of 
Niflheim  and  the  transparent  pure  heat  of  Muspelheim. 
Refined  and  purified  they  met  in  mid-air  and  made  life. 
And  that  life  made  the  world  and  was  the  world.  Under- 
stand ?  There's  no  way  to  the  higher  life  along  the  earthly 
plane — that  chucks  us  into  the  abyss.  But  the  soul-es- 
sence— the  thing  distilled  away  from  the  heat  of  the  blood 
and  the  barren  ice  of  selfishness — My  God!  That  is  the 
thing!  That  is  life!" 

He  walked  the  room  now  with  his  light  nervous  steps. 
His  head  was  flung  back  and  his  eyes  shone.  Dick  thought 
suddenly  of  a  Browning-sick  girl  who  used  to  call  Tempest 


"THE    YOUNG   GOD    FREY '  137 

"  Sun-treader,"  and  the  smile  on  his  lips  had  lost  its  cynic- 
ism, although  his  words  had  not. 

"  Very  pretty,"  he  said.  "  Unfortunately  the  bulk  of  us 
go  into  Ginungagap.  Partly  for  the  sake  of  company,  and 
partly  because  we  are  still  gross  enough  to  prefer  the  heat 
of  the  blood  unrefined.  And  partly  because  the  habit  of 
wanting  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  things  seems  more  in- 
eradicable than  the  habit  of  wanting  to  get  to  the  top." 
"  It  is  not.  That's  just  where  we  mistake.  When  we 

can  lose  that  idea  we  will  be " 

"  God's,"  suggested  Dick  suavely. 

"  No,  you  irreligious  owl.     But  we  will  be  able  to  see 

Life  and  Love  is " 

"  Not  human  love.     You  couldn't  put  that  into  such  a 
universe,  old  man." 

Tempest  stopped  to  laugh.  There  were  many  days 
when  he  felt  the  great  barrier  between  himself  and  this 
man.  But  there  were  a  few  when  he  felt  the  ancient  bond. 
He  felt  it  to-night,  with  the  flush  of  his  excitement  on  him, 
and  he  talked  eagerly  for  an  hour,  urged  on  by  Dick's  idly-1 
dropped  comments.  He  went  away  at  last,  glad-eyed  and 
buoyant  still.  But  Dick  sat  on  with  his  pipe  burnt  out  and 
stared  at  the  opposite  wall. 

He  did  not  usually  care  to  analyse  emotions  in  himself. 
But  he  knew  that  he  was  shaken  just  now.  This  man, 
three  years  older  than  himself,  was  a  century  younger  in 
heart.  He  had  kept  his  ideals,  and  those  ideals  were  go- 
ing to  slay  him  now — unless  someone  interfered.  All  un- 
guessing  Tt.npest  had  shown  his  heart  to  the  man  who 
knew  too  much.  One  of  earth's  chosen  men  was  failing  in 
his  trust  for  very  sake  of  those  grossness  which  he  repudi- 
ated. One  of  those  men  to  whom  knighthood  was  more 
than  a  name  was  carrying  into  the  lists  a  favour  for  which 
he  must  not  fight.  Dick  had  not  studied  men  and  women 
all  his  life  without  having  seen  by  now  where  Tempest's 
real  call  lay.  Tempest  belonged  to  Canada.  He  loved  it 
with  that  ardent  love  which  some  few  men  can  give  their 
land.  He  was  one  of  those  born  to  serve  her  need.  He 
was  fit  to  serve  in  those  places  where  the  server's  work  is 
so  infinitely  higher  than  the  master's.  He  was  fit  to  give 
heart-blood  and  body-sweat  to  her  making.  He  was  fit  to 


138  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

travail  and  suffer  that  order  might  be  wrought  from  choas, 
plenty  from  poverty.  He  was  fit  to  be  made  himself  into 
one  of  those  mighty  men  whose  name  will  ring  along  the 
land  long  after  their  feet  cease  to  echo  on  it. 

Dick  bit  softly  on  his  pipe-stem,  and  there  was  a  curi- 
ous half-cruel,  half-tender  look  in  his  eyes.  Tempest 
could  be  saved  for  all  this — if  anyone  took  the  trouble 
to  save  him.  He  could  be  set  to  bear  his  banner  and  his 
high  heart  through  to  a  lonely  Calvary.  He  could  be  set 
to  do  the  things  that  other  men  shirked — by  anyone  who 
had  wit  enough  to  nail  him  flat  on  the  cross  of  other  men's 
sins  and  shortcomings.  It  was  just  that  Tempest  should 
hang  there,  because  he  was  worthy,  and  the  great  punish- 
ments of  earth  have  always  fallen  upon  her  noblest.  For 
the  little  people  of  little  soul  do  their  eating  and  their 
sleeping  and  their  dying,  and  let  the  world  go  by. 

There  was  humour  in  this  to  Dick,  and  temptation.  He 
had  the  skill  to  block  Tempest  if  he  chose.  He  had  the 
skill  to  make  Tempest  the  thing  which  he  himself  could 
not  Be.  He  laughed  softly,  with  the  cruelty  deepening 
in  his  eyes.  Then  suddenly,  with  a  sigh  that  was  half  a 
sob,  he  dropped  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  so  sat  silent 
for  very  long. 


CHAPTER  VII 

"  THE    RETURN    OP    OGILVIE  " 

"  SUCH  things  should  not  be  allowed,"  said  Slicker  hotly. 

"  Unfortunately,"  said  Dick,  and  his  voice  was  propor- 
tionately cool,  "  we  have  learnt  to  conduct  society  on  the 
assumption  that  each  human  thing  is  a  separate  individual. 
And  therefore,  logic  requires  that  we  allow  to  each  at  least 
the  outward  rights  of  personal  independence." 

"  But  they  have  no  right  to  use  those  rights  against  an- 
other." 

"  You  know  Mrs.  Hotchkiss  says  that  bruise  was  where 
she  fell  against  a  tree,  Slicker  ?  "  reproved  young  Forbes. 

"  But  she  knows  it  isn't.     And  so  do  we." 

Along  Leigh's  warm,  shady  verandah  the  older  men 
glanced  at  each  other  in  amusement.  Dick  looked  down 
on  the  two  boys  spread  luxuriously  on  the  sunny  grass. 

"  Whose  rights  are  you  encroaching  on  now,  Slicker  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Oh,  it's  all  rot!  "  Slicker  sat  up  with  a  jerk.  "Love 
and  marriage  just  upset  the  preconceived  plan  of  the  whole 
cosmos." 

"  Especially  marriage,"  murmured  Dick ;  while  the  other 
men  laughed,  stinging  Slicker  into  defence. 

"  We  ought  to  have  been  all  men  or  all  women,"  he  cried. 
"  All  men  wouldn't  bother  to  bully  each  other,  and  all 
women  wouldn't  bother  to  nag  each  other.  There  wouldn't 
be  much  love,  and  so  there  wouldn't  be  much  sorrow. 
We'd  just  jig  along  each  on  our  own." 

"  Sounds  enticing,"  said  Bond,  the  young  factor  of  Re- 
villons.  "But  there  seem  to  be  some  fundamental  objec- 
tions to  that  plan.  Slicker.  The  world  has  to  go  on,  you 
know.  Or,  at  least,  we  are  under  that  impression.  We 
may  be  over-estimating  our  value." 

139 


140  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  Heaven  help  us  if  we  are,"  said  Dick.  He  looked  at 
Slicker.  "  Who  gave  you  leave  to  take  Kant  and  Hegel 
and  some  other  books  out  of  my  room?  "  he  asked. 

Slicker  went  scarlet.  Several  conditions  in  Grey  Wolf 
had  upset  him  lately;  and  he  was  seeking  explanation 
for  them,  and,  incidentally,  for  his  own  existence  and  that 
of  everyone  else. 

"  I  found  them,"  he  muttered. 

"I  have  just  said  so."  Dick's  smile  was  malicious. 
"  Well,  you've  found  your  punishment  pretty  quick,  too." 

"  But  can't  you  do  something  with  Hotchkiss  ?  "  said 
Bond.  "  I'm  afraid  he  gives  that  poor  little  woman  a  bad 
time." 

"  Not  unless  she  complains — or  Leigh.  Speak  to  Leigh. 
He's  Hotchkiss'  boss." 

Dick  yawned,  and  retired  from  the  following  discus- 
sion, lying  back  in  his  chair  with  his  half-shut  eyes  on 
Slicker.  And  presently  the  boy  rose,  with  a  swing  of  de- 
fiance; walked  down  to  the  gate,  and  turned  along  the 
road. 

Dick  was  half-smiling,  for  he  understood  the  reason  for 
this  explosion  so  clearly.  In  these  weeks  Slicker  had  been 
watching  the  breaking-up  of  a  home  across  the  Lake. 
Where  he  could  he  battled  for  Jennifer  against  Ducane's 
growing  drunkenness  and  demands ;  where  he  could  not 
he  went  away,  and,  quite  naturally,  cursed  the  universe. 
Dick  saw  no  reason  to  curse  the  universe.  He  had  be- 
come to  Jennifer  that  always-kindly,  always-tactful  friend 
whose  vigorous  interest  and  vitality  cheered  and  strength- 
ened her  as  nothing  else  could  do.  And  she  had  become 
to  him  much  more  than  he  yet  allowed  himself  to  be- 
lieve, although  his  nature  was  daily  warning  him.  Jenni- 
fer, brave-eyed  and  unshaken  in  her  wifehood,  meant  more 
to  him  than  any  woman  had  meant  before,  even  as  Tempest 
meant  more  than  any  other  man  had  meant. 

But  he  knew  that  he  would  probably  let  Tempest  go  to 
ruin  without  a  finger  lifted  to  save  him,  and  he  forsaw  that 
he  would  more  than  probably  pluck  Jennifer  out  of  her 
blind  innocence  into  a  knowledge  which  could  not  fail  to 
hurt  her.  The  man  who  desired  a  thing  and  yet  dared 
not  take  it  aroused  Dick's  amused  contempt  and  curiosity 


"THE    RETURN    OF    OGILVIE''        141 

all  his  days.  For  he  looked  at  the  race  through  the  in- 
dividual, unguessing  that  the  glory  of  mankind  is  to  look 
at  the  individaul  through  the  race. 

Presently  Leigh's  words  drew  him  into  the  talk  again. 

"  Dick,  did  you  see  that  old  fellow  who  came  up  with 
one  of  those  bogus  prospectuses  last  week?  A  baby-faced 
old  buffer  with  a  downy  beard  and  not  enough  snap  to 
curse  with  when  he  found  he'd  been  done." 

"  Yes,  I  saw  him.     Ducane  sent  him  on  to  me." 

"Well?  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?"  de- 
manded Leigh. 

"  What  do  you  expect  us  to  do.  Grey  Wolf  is  not  the 
first  place  to  be  boomed  in  this  way,  and  it  won't  be  the 
last.  I  once  bought  shares  in  a  gold-mine  that  was  three 
miles  out  at  sea  myself.  Such  things  must  happen,  you 
know.  We  invite  it  when  we  will  buy  on  paper." 

"  You  call  it  a  boom,"  said  Bond.  "  It  will  kill  the 
place." 

"  Not  it.  A  German  came  up  lately  with  scrip  that 
showed  a  fine  river- frontage — but  unfortunately  he  found 
that  he  had  to  go  into  the  river  to  get  it.  But  he  liked 
the  land,  and  he  bought  that  genuine  frontage  of  Robison's 
near  Pitcher  Portage."  He  smiled  gently.  "  Robison  is 
advertising  us  quite  a  little  bit,  I  think,"  he  added. 

He  said  it  again  to  himself  as  he  rode  over  to  Ducane's 
for  supper  a  little  later.  But  this  time  he  added  Ducane's 
name,  and  under  the  wide  dark  tent  of  trees  where  sweet 
scents  moved  the  birds  answered  him  in  cheerful,  rollick- 
ing song.  By  the  trail  the  yellow  catkins  of  the  pussy- 
willow were  swaying,  and  Dick  came  with  their  pollen  on 
him  to  the  dining-room,  where  Ducane  was  working  at  a 
roll-top  desk.  Ducane  swept  the  papers  into  a  drawer 
and  locked  it  instantly,  and  Dick  followed  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  bunch  of  keys  into  his  pocket  with  the  eyes 
of  desire.  The  handling  of  that  bunch  for  such  a  little 
while  might  mean  so  much. 

Throughout  the  meal  Ducane  was  moody  and  irritable. 
He  smoked  a  cigar  between  his  mouthfuls,  scattering  the 
ash  on  the  tablecloth.     Jennifer's  eyes  caught  Dick's,  and 
she  smiled  bravely. 
"  Isn't  he  dreadful  ?  "  she  said.    "  It  is  always   a   cigar 


THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

or  cigarettes.  The  kitten  eats  what  she  can,  and  my 
chipmunk  thinks  them  invaluable  for  his  next  winter's 
store.  But  I  still  find  the  ends  about  everywhere." 

"  You  always  exaggerate  so  infernally/'  growled  Du- 
cane. 

"  If  you  came  out  of  that  cloud  of  smoke  you'd  call  it  by 
another  name,"  said  Dick.  "  Where  is  the  chipmunk,  Mrs. 
Ducane?  I  haven't  seen  him  since  he  bit  my  finger,  and 
I've  been  afraid  to  ask  for  fear  he'd  died  of  it.  Do  you 
remember  Cowper's  '  Mad  Dog '  ?  There  the  man  recov- 
ered from  the  bite.  But  it  killed  the  dog." 

He  continued  to  talk;  lightly,  casually,  though  he  missed 
little  of  what  Ducane  did  or  said.  This  smoking  at  meal- 
times proved  that  Ducane's  nerves  were  rapidly  getting 
beyond  self-control.  And  the  furtive  look  in  his  eyes 
proved  the  same.  The  man  was  on  the  verge  of  a  big 
coup  or  an  utter  breakdown.  Either  was  equally  likely  to 
affect  him  in  this  way.  But  whichever  it  was  Dick  hoped 
that  the  matter  would  not  be  taken  out  of  his  own  hands. 
The  instinct  of  the  chase  was  too  strong  in  him.  He  knew 
that  he  could  not  let  go  now.  Then  he  looked  at  Jennifer 
in  the  lamplight  with  all  the  daintiness  of  the  carefully-ar- 
ranged table  about  her,  and  the  cynicism  in  his  blood 
brought  the  faint  smile  to  his  eyes.  Life  did  this  kind 
of  thing  to  him  always.  It  never  gave  him  the  sweet  with- 
out the  bitter.  But  Jennifer  was  a  woman  only;  neither 
stronger  nor  wiser  than  other  women.  And  she  was  an 
unhappy  one  also. 

In  the  sitting-room  later  Ducane  was  smoking  cigarettes. 

He  smoked  them  rapidly,  flinging  them  into  the  fire 
half-burnt  out.  And  he  walked  through  the  room  in  rest- 
less irritation,  tossing  a  word  into  the  conversation  now 
and  again,  and  contradicting  Dick  rudely.  Dick  was  well 
accustomed  to  this.  Jennifer  never  asked  anyone  else  to 
her  home  now,  but  she  had  ceased  to  mind  Dick.  Indeed, 
without  understanding  why,  she  found  comfort  in  his 
presence. 

In  a  tall,  grey  jar  on  the  floor  big  branches  of  pussy- 
willow showed  palely,  scenting  the  room  with  spring.  Du- 
cane brushed  once  against  them  as  he  walked,  and  he 
turned,  with  a  curse,  kicking  the  jar  over, 


"THE    RETURN    OF    OGILVIE "         143 

"  That'll  teach  you  to  put  your  deuced  rubbish  about  all 
over  the  shop,"  he  said  savagely.  "  Pick  it  up  and  take  it 
away." 

Jennifer  stood  up,  flushing.  This  was  worse  than  any- 
thing he  had  hitherto  shown  before  Dick.  She  silenced 
Dick  with  a  movement  of  her  hand  as  he  rose,  and  went 
forward.  But  Ducane  had  already  entangled  his  feet  in 
the  branches.  He  stooped;  wrenched  them  away  from  his 
ankles,  and  flung  them  in  Jennifer's  face. 

"  Do  you  want  to  make  me  fall  and  break  my  neck?  " 
he  stormed. 

"  Harry,  dear " 

And  then  a  quiet  hand  put  Jennifer  aside. 

"  Please  go  away  for  a  few  minutes,  Mrs.  Ducane,"  said 
Dick. 

"  Oh — you  won't ?  " 

"  I   won't  hurt  him.     But  he  might  hurt  you.     Please 

go." 

He  held  the  door  open,  and  Ducane  lurched  forward, 
inarticulate  with  fury.  He  had  ceased  to  fear  Dick  for 
the  moment.  And  he  was  a  big  man.  Bigger  and  heavier 
than  Dick.  Jennifer  stood  on  the  threshold.  She  was 
half-dazed,  but  one  little  sharp  thread  of  fear  ran  through 
her. 

"Oh— I  can't.     He's  not  safe " 

"Not  safe  for  me?"  Dick  smiled.  "Don't  be  fright- 
ened," he  said,  and  shut  the  door,  facing  Ducane  with  his 
back  to  it. 

Jennifer  stood  outside  it  with  her  face  white  and  set. 

She  was  glad,  fiercely  glad  that  a  man  should  meet  Du- 

on  the  ground  where  she  had  bowed  in  submission 

so  long.     And  she  was  burning  with  shame  that  it  should 

nm-ssary.  And  she  was  thrilling  with  some  unexplain- 
emotion  which  was  more  than  anger,  more  than  belief, 
more  than  pain.  She  could  not  analyse  it;  but  she  knew 
that  from  no  other  man  would  she  have  allowed  this  in- 
terference between  herself  and  her  husband. 

Ducane's  voice  rose,  loud  and  hectoring.  She  could 
not  hear  Dick.  She  did  not  want  to  hear  him.  She  went 
down  the  passage  to  her  own  room  and  stood  looking  out 
on  the  calm  night  of  stars.  There  was  no  love  for  Du- 


144  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

cane  left  in  her  now,  and  at  present  she  felt  that  there  was 
no  love  for  anyone  or  anything  else  in  all  the  world. 

Ducane  was  scattering  curses  through  his  incoherent 
wrath.  His  natural  bullying  temper  had  outleapt  its 
bounds  and  he  was  nearly  mad  with  fury.  But  the  quiet, 
half-smiling  man  against  the  door  cowed  him.  He  kept 
his  distance. 

"How  dare  you  interfere  between  me  and  my  wife?" 
he  foamed.  "  In  a  man's  own  house,  too.  I'll  have 
you " 

"Do  you  really  call  yourself  a  man?"  asked  Dick  po- 
litely. 

"  I — I "   Ducane   became   incoherent   again.     "  You 

have  no  right,  legal  or  otherwise,  damn  you — 

"  I  don't  want  any  right  other  than  my  muscles."  Dick 
came  forward  suddenly ;  close  up  to  the  stuttering,  purple 
face.  "  Your  word  isn't  worth  much,"  he  said.  "  But 
I  have  a  fancy  to  make  you  give  it  to  me.  Will  you  control 
yourself  more  in  future?  You  had  better  say  yes.  I  give 
you  a  couple  of  minutes  to  think  it  over." 

"  I'll  have  you  up  for  assault  if  you  try  to  bully  me." 

"If  you  do  I  assure  you  I  will  endeavour  to  make  it 
worth  your  while."  Dick  began  to  unbutton  his  tunic. 
"  You  prefer  it  this  way  then?  "  he  asked. 

"  No !  No !  "  Ducane  backed  away,  unmanned  by  a 
sudden  fear.  "  No.  I  know  you  could  lick  me." 

"  So  do  I.  If  I  wasn't  so  absolutely  sure  perhaps  I'd 
take  a  sporting  try  at  it.  Mr.  Ducane,  nerve-attacks  like 
this  don't  come  on  a  man  without  reach.  Unless  you  want 
me  to  begin  taking  a  professional  interest  in  your  affairs 
you  had  better  learn  to  control  yourself.  Do  you  under- 
stand ?  " 

He  doubted  the  wisdom  of  this  half-veiled  threat.  But 
he  needed  a  weapon  which  would  strike  home.  This  did. 
Ducane  reeled  back  against  the  wall,  and  his  puffy  face 
turned  tallow-pale. 

"  There's  nothing  wrong  with  my  private  affairs,"  he 
gasped.  "  Nothing." 

"  Then  it  is  heart  or  stomach,  I  suppose.  You'd  better 
see  de  Choiseaux.  Shall  I  send  him  over  in  the  morn' 
ing?" 


"THE    RETURN    OF    OGILVIE "         145 

Ducane  acquiesced  sullenly.  But  it  seemed  to  Dick  that 
he  snatched  at  this  way  of  escape.  Dick  bade  him  good- 
night blandly. 

"I'll  come  over  with  de  Choiseaux,"  he  said.  "And 
I'll  ask  Mrs.  Ducane  to  tell  me  how  you've  spent  the 
night.  You  mustn't  let  those  nerves  get  any  more  bold, 
you  know." 

He  left  Ducane  groping  with  the  hint  behind  this,  and 
went  down  the  passage  to  get  his  hat.  In  the  open  door- 
way Jennifer  came  to  him,  and  under  the  pale  starlight 
she  looked  very  small  and  frail. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  almost  inaudibly.  "  But  I  hope 
that  it  will  never  be  necessary  for  you  to  do  this  any 
more." 

He  had  to  lighten  that  note  of  tragedy  in  her  voice  be- 
fore he  could  think  of  anything  else. 

"  Why,  it  was  nothing,"  he  said.  "  When  a  man  gets 
a  bad  attack  of  nerves  a  few  plain  words  from  another 
man  soon  help  to  make  him 'see  things  straight.  I  am  go- 
ing to  bring  de  Choiseaux  over  in  the  morning.  Ducane 
has  consented  to  take  a  tonic.  You'll  see  that  he'll  soon 
be  all  right  again.  But  he'll  have  to  knock  off  his  smok- 
ing." 

Both  knew  well  that  it  was  very  much  more  than  noth- 
ing. But  she  said  only: 

"  How  very  kind  you  always  are  to  me." 

Dick  looked  down  at  her  smiling.  He  was  wondering 
if  she  would  say  this  to  him  in  the  days  that  were 
coming. 

"  That  virtue  brings  its  own  reward  in  this  case,"  he 
said,  and  rode  away  into  the  night. 

A  week  later  Slicker  tottered  in  at  the  barrack-gate, 
white-  faced. 

"  Dick,  I've  found  him,"  he  gasped.  "  I've  found  Ogil- 
vie." 

Dick  led  him  into  the  little  office  and  shut  the  door. 

"Where?"  he  said.  "Take  your  time — and  take  this 
first." 

Slicker  swallowed  a  small  nip  from  Dick's  flask,  and 
shuddered.  "  He's  at  the  bottom  of  that  coulee  a  couple 
of  hundred  yards  from  the  Mission  trail.  I  didn't  go 


146  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

down,  but  I  knew  that  coon  coat  of  his.  And  the  flies  were 
buzzing.  Ugh !  " 

"  All  right.  Don't  you  worry  about  Ogilvie.  He's 
been  shut  of  his  troubles  these  six  months,  lucky  devil. 
Hold  on  till  I  get  Kennedy  and  the  buckboard.  You  must 
show  us  the  place  right  now." 

But  among  the  close-set  young  poplars  and  the  sweet- 
scented  Balm  of  Gilead  at  the  coulee-top  Slicker  backed 
away. 

"  I — I  guess  I'll  stay  with  the  team,"  he  said,  and  the 
two  policemen  crashed  down  through  the  undergrowth 
together,  with  the  drumming  of  woodpeckers  in  the  hollow 
trees  about  them  sounding  like  hammering  on  an  empty 
coffin. 

Sunk  deep  in  the  coulee-bottom  was  a  bundle  of  rough 
fur;  something  that  gleamed,  as  though  scratched  out  by 
a  questing  coyote,  and  a  boot  turned  upwards,  with  a  white 
butterfly  poised  on  its  tip.  In  the  hot  air  the  buzzing  of 
flies  came  up  drowsily,  suggesting  sleep.  But  Ogilvie's 
sleep  was  six  months  long. 

Dick  stooped  over  the  thing  on  the  ground.  For  a  little 
time  he  did  not  move.  Then,  with  a  strong  jerk  of  his 
wrist,  he  pulled  a  knife  from  the  joint  of  the  neck  and 
collar-bone  and  stood  up,  quenching  Kennedy's  exclama- 
tions. 

"  We  have  found  Ogilvie's  bones,"  he  said.  "  That's 
all  you  know.  Now  help  shift  him  out  of  this." 

Four  drove  home  where  three  drove  out,  and  in  the 
loose-box  at  the  barrack-stable  Ogilvie  was  laid,  wrapped 
decently  in  a  Hudson  Bay  blanket.  Then  Dick  went  up 
to  his  bedroom  and  washed  and  brushed  himself,  whistling 
softly  the  while.  The  hound-instinct  was  awake  in  him, 
whipping  him  on  to  the  blood-trail,  and  already  he  had 
scented  the  two  whom  he  must  follow.  If  it  were  not 
Robison  who  had  done  this  thing  then  it  assuredly  was 
Grange's  Andree,  and  it  behoved  him  to  have  those  two 
suspects  in  his  hands  before  the  news  of  Ogilvie's  return 
got  loose  in  Grey  Wolf.  He  had  enforced  present  silence 
from  Kennedy  and  Slicker.  But  he  would  not  be  able  to 
keep  it  for  long.  He  laughed,  brushing  the  thick  hair  back 


"THE    RETURN    OF    OGILVIE"         147 

from  his  sunburnt  forehead,  and  settling  his  cap  with  a 
swagger. 

"  It's  you  and  me  for  it  first,  I  reckon,  Grange's  Andree," 
he  said,  and  clattered  cheerfully  down  the  narrow  stairs. 

He  felt  relieved  that  Tempest  would  not  be  back  from 
the  Black  Mile  until  the  next  night.  The  matter  was  en- 
tirely under  his  control,  and  he  knew  exactly  what  he  was 
going  to  do  as  he  walked  down  to  Grange's  where  a  Sab- 
bath calm  lay  over  everything,  including  the  many  dogs 
that  slept  in  the  dust  round  the  door. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  Andree  a  moment,"  he  said,  lean- 
ing in  through  the  back-parlour  window ;  and  Moosta,  with 
unsteady  babies  reeling  round  her  ample  skirts,  answered 
him. 

"  Suppose  she  go  in  canoe.  She  mak'  fight  avec  Mon- 
sieur Lampard." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Dick,  and  withdrew  his  head,  and 
went  down  to  the  river. 

"  She  can  flirt  with  that  little  beast  when  she  has  Tem- 
pest ! "  he  said.  Then  he  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I 
know  something  about  women,"  he  said.  "But  I  doubt 
Andree  is  rather  too  raw  even  for  me." 

Against  the  bank  where  the  canoe  widened  to  the  lake 
he  found  Andree  in  her  canoe.  She  held  the  overhanging 
willow-branches  with  one  round  arm  from  which  the  sleeve 
had  fallen  back.  There  was  a  bracelet  of  the  dyed  por- 
cupine quills  on  it,  and  a  belt  of  like  make  clipped  her 
supple  waist.  She  lay  back  idly,  and  her  long  slender  feet 
were  thrust  out  before  her,  cased  in  new  moccasins  gay 
with  blue  and  magenta  bead-work  and  silk.  Dick 
smiled. 

"  Waiting  for  Monsieur  Lampard  to  come  back  and 
make  friends,"  he  murmured. 

Then  he  slid  down  the  bank  and  stood  beside  her.  An- 
rlrrr  looked  up  with  a  pretty  pretence  at  anger.  Then 
she  frowned.  She  had  no  reason  to  love  Dick. 

"What  boy  are  you  waiting  for  this  evening,  Andree?" 
asked  Dick  pleasantly,  and  stepped  into  the  canoe. 

"  Not  you,"  she  said  sharply,  and  drew  her  feet  in. 

"Ah,  I'm  sorry  for  that."     Dick  reached  for  the  pad- 


148  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

idle  and  sent  the  canoe  out  into  the  stream.  "  Because  you 
see,  I've  come.  I  want  to  speak  to  you  rather  particularly, 
Grange's  Andree." 

She  looked  up  with  suspicion  at  his  suave  voice.  Dick 
nodded.  His  smile  was  almost  bland. 

"  Why  did  you  tell  me  that  you  didn't  see  Ogilvie  that 
night  in  the  Mission  trail?  "  he  asked  softly. 

"  Ah !  "  she  said,  and  half-sprang  up.  But  Dick  was 
too  quick  for  her.  He  dropped  the  paddle,  and  thrust  her 
back  in  the  seat. 

"  You  can't  swim,"  he  said.  "  And  I'm  not  going  to 
hurt  you.  Now,  what  time  did  you  see  Robison  on  that 
same  night  ?  " 

"  I  did  never  see  either,"  she  said  with  a  gasp. 

"  Did  you  see  them  both  at  the  same  time?  " 

"  I  did  not  see " 

"  Were  they  both  in  the  trail  together  when  you  saw 
them?  " 

"  Nona  de  Dieu !  "  she  burst  out.     "  You  devil !  " 

"  Keep  quiet.  You  near  had  us  over.  Both  at  once, 
was  it?  " 

"  I  did  never " 

"  It  was  both  at  once  then  ?  " 

This  steady  hammering  was  too  much  for  her. 

"  Aha,"  she  said,  and  Dick  told  her  fear  by  her  quick- 
ened breathing. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  persuasively,  "  you  will  tell  me  what 
else  you  saw,  Andree." 

"  Diable !  "  she  cried,  and  her  voice  rose  in  a  scream. 
"  I  not  see  nothing.  I  not  know.  Oh — damn  you,  Dick." 

"  That  matter  has  already  been  attended  to,  thank  you. 
Now,  what  did  you  see  ?  " 

"  I  did  see  nothing." 

Dick's  hand  slid  round  her  wrist  softly,  and  sugges- 
tively. "  I  think  you  know  what  it  means  if  you  keep  on 
saying  that,"  he  said. 

"  Oh ! "  Andree  shuddered,  drawing  her  head  in  be- 
tween her  shoulders.  Then  suddenly  she  flung  it  up  and 
looked  at  him  defiantly. 

"  Est-ce  que  vous  avez  envie  de  moi  to  tell?"  she  de- 
manded. 

"  You  have  guessed  exactly  right,  Andree." 


"THE    RETURN    OF    OGILVIE"        149 

"  Robison,"  she  began.  Then  she  put  her  hand  out. 
"  Take  those  eyes  out  of  my  eyes/'  she  said.  "  Now — 
I  will  say.  They  did  mak'  fight.  An  Ogilvie  he  hit. 
An' — an'  Robison  take  le  couteau  " — she  dropped  her  face 
in  her  hands.  "  Non,  non,"  she  gasped.  "  Tais'-vous. 
Ah!  Cette  affaire!  C'est  affreux!" 

Dick  sat  back,  letting  her  go. 

"  I  think  that  will  do  for  now,"  he  said.  *'  You  can 
tell  the  rest  in  court.  Where  is  Robison  ?  " 

"  He  did  go  north  with  Ducane  on  Mercredi — on  Wed- 
nesday. I  do  not  know " 

Dick  smothered  an  oath.  This  was  an  unforeseen  com- 
plication. And  the  man  had  four  days'  start. 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oui,"  said  Andree  sulkily. 

On  the  night  before  Robison  had  left  he  had  shown  his 
increasing  jealously  against  Tempest  very  plainly,  and  it 
had  taken  all  her  small  amount  of  wit  to  quieten  him. 
Andree  had  no  more  love  for  Tempest  than  for  Robison. 
But  it  pleased  her  to  have  the  men  in  the  bar  chaff  her 
about  him,  and  it  pleased  her  to  see  the  light  leap  into  his 
eyes  when  she  came  near  him. 

Dick  took  up  the  paddle  and  drove  the  canoe  in  under 
the  willows  again. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  your  graciousness,  Andree/' 
he  said.  "  But  I  advise  you  not  to  shower  it  on  any  one 
else  in  this  matter,  or  you  may  get  yourself  into  trouble. 
And  I  wonder  if  any  girl  who  had  not  Indian  blood  in  her 
could  have  held  her  tongue  for  so  long." 

He  went  back  through  the  streets,  asking  for  Robison 
and  Ducane,  and  confirming  Andree's  words.  They  had 
gone  to  catch  the  scows  making  north  with  the  first  spring 
freight  for  Fort  Smith  and  Hay  River  and  many  a  lonely 
outpost  beside.  Dick  knew  well  the  trail  they  must  take. 
He  knew  the  run  of  the  river  from  Pelican  Portage  down, 
and  he  knew  just  as  exactly  his  chances  of  catching  the 
steamer  which  met  the  scows  at  Fort  McMurray.  An  hour 
later  he  ran  down  to  the  bank  on  moccasined  feet,  and 
within  ten  minutes  a  little  canoe  shot  out  into  the  sunset, 
with  Dick  kneeling,  eager-eyed  and  lithe-armed,  in  the  bow, 
and  Tommy  Joseph  in  the  stern. 

Tommy  had  tracked  up  that  river  and  sailed  down  it  until 


150  THE    LAW-BRIXGERS 

he  knew  the  lie  of  it  by  heart,  and  when  night  came  the 
steady  push  of  the  paddles  still  ate  up  the  miles.  Once  a 
bull-moose  thrashed  the  undergrowth  close  by  with  his 
wide-branching  horns,  and  far  off  the  shy  cow  answered  with 
a  wild  note;  harsh,  and  strangely  appealing.  Silence 
dropped,  and  Dick  knew  that  the  huge  animal  was  swing- 
ing his  mighty  bulk  and  heavy  antlers  through  the  woods 
as  noiseless  and  as  swift  as  a  weasel. 

It  was  hot  on  the  river  through  the  days  that  followed. 
And  it  was  very  lonely.  Sometimes  across  an  open  sweep 
of  red-top  grass  coyotes  raised  their  high  wild  howling  and 
shot  from  sight  like  yellow  shadows.  Sometimes  loons 
rose  from  desolate  marshes  and  flew  into  horizon  with 
straight  beaks  wide  open  and  strident  cries  that  made 
crazy  echoes.  Sometimes  a  brown  bear  rocked  along  the 
rim  of  their  night-camp  with  his  silent  shuffle,  or  the 
nasal  whistle  of  a  night-hawk  on  the  trail  of  a  bat  came 
to  them  where  they  lay  under  the  white  moon.  But  the 
men  spoke  little,  and  in  silence  they  thought  their  own 
thoughts,  still-faced  and  quiet-eyed,  in  that  reserve  which 
the  men  of  the  back-trails  know  well. 

Many  times  Dick  thought  of  Robison ;  swarthy,  stealthy, 
ready  to  die  hard  when  his  time  came.  Of  Ducane  who 
would  crouch  and  cry  when  rounded  up  for  his  branding. 
Of  Jennifer — and  then  his  thoughts  went  no  further,  and 
all  the  great  dead  of  whom  the  forest  told  were  nothing 
to  him.  For  the  men  who  loved  Canada  haunt  her  silent 
places  still;  a  ghostly,  unforgotten  company,  grey  with  the 
thickening  dust  of  time.  Alexander  Mackenzie,  who  broke 
out  the  white-man's  flag  where  only  the  Indian's  smoke- 
flag  had  blown;  Franklin,  thrusting  his  pincer-points  down 
from  the  naked  Pole;  Bishop  Bompas,  that  wide-hearted, 
dauntless  "  Apostle  of  the  North " ;  James  Robertson ; 
George  Munro  Grant,  and  the  men  of  a  later  day;  Strath- 
cona  and  Mount  Stephen,  who  smote  with  steel  and  paved 
with  iron  and  buckled  up  coast  to  coast. 

And  a  thousand  untold,  and  yet  another  thousand;  men 
who  died  with  shut  teeth  and  fierce  eyes  on  the  Long  Tra- 
verse ;  trappers  whose  sleeping  places  the  grey  wolf  knows ; 
freighters,  Indians,  Hudson  Bay  runners,  men  of  the 
Mounted  Police —  Canada's  lovers  all,  sowing  their  bones 


"THE    RETURN    OF    OGILVIE "         151 

down  the  trails  they  blazed  that  other  men  might  follow 
after. 

All  the  world  was  full  of  summer,  from  the  duck  nesting 
in  unknown  pools  to  the  reeling  rim  of  the  Arctic  day, 
where  the  reindeer  moss  pushes  green  through  the  snow, 
and  the  bergs  break  out,  and  the  whalers  wake  and  the 
great  seals  put  to  sea.  One  early  dawn,  when  the  port- 
ages of  Grand  Rapid  Island  were  passed,  a  sleepy  breed 
in  his  tepee  was  waked  to  hear  a  burnt-skinned,  sunk-eyed 
man  in  uniform  which  explained  more  than  his  words  ask 
how  long  it  was  since  the  scows  had  passed  the  Rapids. 
His  answers  seemed  jerked  from  him;  and  then  the  man 
sprang  into  a  canoe,  and  struck  out  where  the  Athabaska 
ran  red  under  the  dawning.  The  breed  grunted  rubbing 
his  eyes. 

"  By  gar,"  he  said.  "  Go  roun'  wit  chip  on  hees  shoul- 
der, dat  chap.  Carcajou,  heem." 

Carcajou,  the  wolverine,  was  first  made  of  all  created 
things,  and  he  alone  has  changed  neither  habit  nor  form 
since  Kitche  Manitou  put  him  into  the  woods.  Therefore 
Carcajou  has  knowledge  of  all  his  things  behind  those 
watchful  eyes  of  his,  and  the  breed  on  the  bank  was  not  the 
first  man  who  had  called  Dick  Carcajou  in  uneasy  resent- 
ment. 

Down  this  wide  northern  road  uncounted  men  of  many 
lands  have  gone  to  the  Yukon  gold;  to  the  untapped  min- 
eral wealth  of  the  hills;  to  the  lip  of  the  Arctic  where  the 
kit-fox  breeds.  Scores  had  never  come  back.  But  their 
ghostly  march  did  not  trouble  Dick.  Between  the  great 
wash  of  water  and  the  hard  naked  sky  all  the  past  was 
shrivelled  up.  He  had  come  with  chafed  limbs  and  stiff 
shoulders  to  get  his  man;  and  that  instinct  would  not  die, 
though  the  sunset  flung  mocking  colour  on  drawn,  set  faces, 
and  the  moon  saw  two  figures  that  crouched  lower  with 
humped  shoulders  as  the  weary  paddles  flashed  in  and 
flashed  out. 

Citrons  and  tender  blues  swamped  the  flats  of  Fort 
McMurray  under  daybreak  when  a  man  in  earth-stained 
kharki  walked  drunkenly  up  the  gangway  of  a  little 
steamer  where  the  bare-foot  crew  laboured  among  the  hay- 
bales,  boxes  and  myraid  things  that  collect  naturally  whert 


152  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

a  river-steamer  comes  to  anchor.  Two  hours  later  the 
captain,  coming  aboard,  trod  on  that  man  where  he 
stretched  unlawfully  into  the  passage-way.  But  he  showed 
no  surprise  when  Dick  sat  up  and  asked  for  a  passage 
so  far  as  she  chose  to  go.  Bessait  listened  in  silence. 
Small  curiosities  do  not  fit  with  a  thousand-mile  landscape, 
and  the  talk  of  the  great  rivers  make  the  human  voice 
sound  thin.  Then  he  made  reply  in  one  grave  nod  and 
went  on  deck. 

Dick  proceeded  with  his  toilet  in  a  lazy  content.  Haste 
was  over  for  the  time,  and  at  leisure  he  made  his  investi- 
gations. 

The  crew  were  as  mixed  a  draft  as  Bessait  usually  car- 
ried. French  breeds  with  the  strength  of  ten ;  a  remittance 
man  gone  sufficiently  insane  to  cook  junk  and  dried  moose 
and  tinned  meats  and  fresh  fish  month  in  and  month  out 
for  a  clamorous  multitude;  a  stoker  with  an  unnecessary 
certificate,  who  was  engineer  and  greaser  and  everything 
else;  an  Englishman  with  suggestive  holes  cut  in  his 
clothes  corners  as  though  some  name  had  been  blotted 
out;  a  few  quiet,  firm-lipped  Canadians,  Fraser's  young 
son,  and  a  delicate-limbed,  fine-faced  boy-student  from 
McGill  University,  who  did  what  he  was  told  for  the  sake 
of  learning  life  in  his  holidays. 

Dick  yawned  and  went  aft  among  the  carefully-stacked 
barrels,  boxes,  cases,  bacon  in  sacks,  harness,  bales  of 
clothes,  seasoned  timber,  bags  of  sealed  mail,  and  many 
things  more  which  Bessait  was  taking  north  addressed  to 
men  whom  the  world  "  outside  "  had  forgotten  long  since. 
On  a  bale  sat  a  French  priest  with  biretta  and  breviary. 
The  stamp  of  an  old-world  monastery  was  raw  on  him, 
and  Dick  wondered  idly  what  kind  of  work  this  man  would 
make  of  life  among  the  realities.  Then  he  pushed  open 
the  door  of  the  half-moon  glass-sided  saloon  where  a  hand- 
ful of  men  were  playing  poker  at  this  nine  of  a  summer 
and  looked  in. 

Brodribb,  the  Hudson  Bay  factor  from  Fort  Smith,  saw 
him  first,  and  gave  welcome.  Ducane  twisted  in  his  chair; 
went  white,  and  gripped  the  table-edge.  Robison  made 
the  cards  in  great  hairy  hands  that  did  not  shake,  and 
Dick's  heart  approved  him.  For  Robison  would  never 


"THE    RETURN    OF    OGILVIE "        153 

lick  the  hand  that  lassooed  him.     He  was  too  surely  a 
son  of  the  strong  North  for  that. 

Dick  got  his  pipe  out,  and  cast  himself  into  the  smoke- 
reek  and  talk.  And  the  doings  of  these  men  of  the  naked 
lives  unrolled  in  their  idle  speech.  There  was  Caird  of 
the  Government  Survey,  grey-haired  and  keen-eyed  and 
calm,  going  down  for  his  twentieth  year's  measuring-off  of 
the  solitudes  with  gay  young  de  Musset  from  Ottawa  and 
the  silent  Lyons  with  the  tragedy  in  his  still  face.  There 
was  a  broad-barrelled  German,  prospecting  for  gold  with 
an  absolutely  admirable  outfit  and  an  easy  knowledge  that 
he  might  forget  the  ways  of  white  nations  before  he  mixed 
with  them  again.  There  was  a  Revillons'  "  fur-pup  "  go- 
ing North  to  a  dim,  slim  branch  of  that  great  Company 
which  has  dared  raise  its  head  against  the  Hudson  Bay, 
and  a  big,  buoyant  lad  of  the  North-West  Police  called  to 
the  long  lonely  beats  of  Fort  Macpherson.  He  would  be 
a  man  when  he  came  back,  that  fresh-faced  boy,  and  the 
little  "  fur-pup  "  would  have  ceased  to  yelp  when  the  cards 
of  Life  went  against  him. 

Through  the  open  door  Dick  heard  Bessait  shout  down 
the  tube  to  the  other  controller  of  the  steamer's  des- 
tinies. 

"Kick  her  into  it/'  he  said.  And  then  the  shudder  of 
life  ran  through  the  dead  timber;  the  screw  backed  and 
squattered;  swung  out  to  the  broad  full  stream,  and  the 
"  Northern  Light  "  laid  her  nose  to  the  Pole  and  went  to 
look  for  it.  Among  the  cotton-woods  a  red  handkerchief 
leapt  up  like  a  heart-flame,  and  Dick  slid  out  of  the  door 
to  make  answer  with  his  own.  The  red  flag  flew  till  the 
banks  veered  in,  and  Dick  laughed,  wondering  if  the  girl  in 
the  cotton-woods  knew.  Then  he  ran  up  the  steep  ladder 
to  the  naked  upper  deck  where  the  funnel  roared  and  all 
the  canvas  surface  lay  at  gaze  to  the  open  sky.  And  as 
his  head  lifted  above  the  level  his  eyes  met  Jennifer's. 

He  stared,  almost  unbelieving.  Then  he  reddened  with 
anger.  Was  Ducane  dragging  his  wife  into  these  shady 
games  which  he  was  playing?  What  had  he  brought  her 
up  here  for  except  as  a  blind?  And  if  so  what  was  he 
going  to  do — with  her  and  with  himself?  The  thoughts 
fled  through  his  mind  like  lightning  on  a  cloud.  But  they 


154  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

left  their  mark.  Even  with  those  brave,  frightened  eyes 
on  his  face;  even  with  the  realization  that  it  was  Jennifer, 
the  woman  he  loved,  the  eager  hunting  instinct  leapt  up 
in  him  as  he  came  forward. 

Jennifer  had  dropped  her  work  with  an  exclamation 
of  fear.  And  that  nailed  his  suspicions  home  to  the  wall 
of  fact.  Ducane  was  on  special  business — dangerous  busi- 
ness; and  she  knew  it. 

"  Oh — what  have  you  come  for?  "  she  said. 

"  I  would  like  to  say  that  it  was  to  see  you.  But  I'm 
afraid  I  gave  myself  away  just  now."  He  sat  down  on 
the  bench  beside  her.  "  You  don't  know  how  curious  it 
seems  to  me — to  see  you  here — with  your  work.  Like  the 
real  essence  of  home-life  among  all  us  men." 

Jennifer  flushed,  with  her  fear  fading  out  under  his  look 
and  his  words.  He  was  so  familiar,  so  reliable,  such  a 
piece  of  home  at  this  edge  of  all  things  new.  It  was  im- 
possible that  he  should  give  reason  for  fear.  She  smiled 
at  him. 

"  I  can  generally  adapt  myself  to  my  surroundings  some- 
how," she  said. 

"  You  do  very  much  more  than  that.  You  can  adapt 
your  surroundings  to  yourself." 

"  Indeed  I  can't.  You,  for  instance.  I  wouldn't  let 
you  wear  that  leather  loop  round  your  head  at  the  back. 
It  roughs  your  hair  up." 

He  took  off  his  Stetson  and  contemplated  the  narrow 
strap. 

"  I  can't  wear  hat-pins,"  he  complained.  "  Besides,  it's 
part  of  the  equipment.  Do  you  really  think  I'm  a  sur- 
rounding that  couldn't  be  adapted  ?  " 

She  glanced  up,  half-startled,  half-puzzled  at  his  earnest 
tone. 

"  Give  me  my  work-bag,  please,"  she  said,  evading  the 
issue,  and  she  took  the  little  silken  thing  from  his  hands 
and  sought  for  her  scissors.  "  Where  do  you  people  of 
the  outside  edges  get  your  chivalry  from?  I  have  never 
been  so  waited  on  in  all  my  life.  Antoine  carried  my  grip 
into  every  cabin  there  is,  and  Louis  Peaceful  followed  with 
the  captain's  sweet-grass  mattress.  Mrs.  Carter  and  I 
could  have  had  every  blanket  in  the  scows  if  we'd  wanted 


"THE    RETURN    OF    OGILVIE "        155 

them,  and  some  one  has  been  drawing  us  pails  of  water 
to  wash  with  ever  since  we  came  aboard." 

"  Who  is  Mrs.  Carter?"  asked  Dick  idly.  But  he  was 
watching  her  face. 

"  Wife  of  the  missionary  at  Fort  Resolution,"  Jennifer 
turned  on  him.  "  She  sent  her  daughter  out  to  school  ten 
years  ago,  and  now  she  has  been  to  Moosejaw  to  see  her 
married.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  been  out  in  eighteen 
years,  and  she  is  going  back  to  perhaps  eighteen  more. 
It  is  not  only  you  men  who  serve  this  great  North-West 
of  ours." 

'  And  it  is  not  only  you  women  who  know  it." 

"  I  know  that  it  is  better  to  work  without  being  satisfied 
than  to  be  satisfied  without  having  worked.  But — oh 
dear ! — she  is  so  good  that  she  makes  me  feel  horribly  bad." 

"  Take  me  as  a,  palliative,  then'.  On  that  basis  I  ought 
to  make  you  feel  horribly  good.  And — do  you  think  that  I 
will  possibly  be  able  to  exist  in  proximity  with  Mrs.  Car- 
ter?" 

Jennifer  laughed.  But  she  shivered.  A  sudden  wind 
from  the  wing  of  the  future  had  ^touched  her,  and  the 
woman  in  her  feared  the  unknown  even  as  the  girl  in  her 
reached  out  for  it. 

They  talked  in  the  new  knowledge  that  had  come  to 
Jennifer  through  these  days  when  she  had  watched  the  red 
sun  sink  and  the  long  dusks  darken  the  river,  and  had  learnt 
the  slang  and  the  run  of  the  river- work  and  dipped  deep 
in  the  lives  of  the  many  men  and  the  one  woman  about 
her.  And  then  that  flat-chested,  grey-haired  woman  with 
the  brave  bright  eyes  interrupted  them,  and  Dick  went 
away  to  smoke  and  to  think. 

He  had  no  intention  to  arrest  Robison  so  long  as  more 
might  be  learned  by  leaving  him  free.  What  was  to  be 
learned  he  did  not  know  yet.  But  he  meant  to  watch; 
and  Ducane  knew  it,  and  said  so  to  Jennifer  that  night, 
taking  her  up  to  the  very  nose  of  the  steamer,  among  the 
windlasses  and  the  warping  ropes  with  the  silky  water 
parting  a  few  feet  below  and  day  yet  hanging  in  the  sun- 
set colours.  He  hid  his  face  against  Jennifer's  sleeve  as 
he  lay  on  the  poop,  turning  to  her  as  to  an  infinite  well 
from  which  he  could  draw  his  courage. 


156  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

"  He's  after  us,"  he  said.  "  I  know  he  is.  What  else 
should  he  come  for?  " 

"  He  says  there  is  that  defalcating  Italian " 

"  He  says!  Jenny,  I'd  back  out  of  this  if  Robison  would 
let  me.  I  can't  stand  it.  I  can't  stand  it.  But  Robison 
won't  lose  money,  and  I'll  lose  my  own  if  I  can't  put  this 
through.  But  I'm  afraid " 

Jennifer  bit  her  lips. 

"  Then  lose  your  own,"  she  said.  "  Let  us  go  out  poor 
so  long  as  we  go  honest.  We  can  begin  again." 

"  Don't  be  a  little  fool."  Ducane  sat  up,  pushing  the 
damp  hair  back  from  his  florid,  handsome  face.  His  eyes 
were  bloodshot  and  his  lips  unsteady.  "  What  the  devil 
do  you  know  about  poverty  and  disgrace?  "  he  said. 

"  You  know  that  I  don't  let  you  swear  to  me,  Harry." 

Ducane  moved  impatiently. 

"  Unless  Heriot  can  be  squared  there  won't  be  much 
more  from  us  in  a  little,"  he  said.  "  Heriot  has  a  long 
head  and  a  short  suit,  and  he  knows  how  to  play  his  game. 
I  never  knew  a  M.  P.  who  could  be  squared  yet;  but 
you're  pretty  thick  with  him.  If  you  could  keep  him  dan- 
gling around  you  this  trip,  Jenny " 

Jennifer  looked  down  that  great  pale  gleam  of  water 
that  led,  link  by  link,  to  the  Arctic  Seas.  Ducane  was 
killing  her  innocent  friendship  by  his  coarse  thoughts  as 
he  had  killed  so  much  else. 

"And  who  is  to  guard  Robison?  He  hasn't  a  wife," 
she  said. 

"  Curse  Robison."  Ducane  brought  his  head  close.  "  I'll 
get  ten  years — and  likely  more — if  Heriot  catches  me,"  he 
said. 

"  And  so  sure  as  there  is  a  God  you  deserve  it,"  said 
Jennifer. 

Ducane  sat  up  as  though  a  cracker  had  exploded  beneath 
him. 

"  You — you "  he  sputtered.  "  Do  you  know  that  you 

are  my  wife?  " 

Jennifer  turned  her  wide,  dark  eyes  on  him.  The  light 
was  faint  and  warm  in  her  hazy  hair. 

"  Oh,  Harry,  will  you  never  be  a  man  ?  "  she  said  sadly. 

Ducane   was   silent.      From  the  upper  deck  rolled  the 


"THE    RETURN    OF    OGILVIE"        157 

sound  of  singing,  where  the  McGill  student  and  Dick  led 
the  interminable  chorus  to  each  verse  of  each  song  that 
was  sung. 

"Come  up;  come  up,  come  all  the  way  up,  come  all  the 

way  up  the  river. 

Come  up;  come  up,  come  all  the  "way  up    ...   come 
all  the  way  up  the  river." 

To  Jennifer  there  was  menace  in  that  strong  body  of 
virile  sound  sweeping  out  to  the  lonely  water  and  the  still 
forests  and  naked  cliffs.  Was  she,  too,  called  to  go  all 
the  way  up  the  grey  river  of  dread  that  broke  at  last  to 
the  Arctic  Seas? 

Ducane  spoke  sulkily: 

"  I  guess  it's  all  right  for  you,"  he  said.  "  &ou  don't 
go  to  prison." 

Jennifer's  spirit  was  there  already. 

"  Oh,"  she  said.  "  I  can  so  well  understand  a  man 
doing  wrong.  But  to  do  wrong  and  be  afraid  all  the 
time — where's  the  pleasure  in  that?  " 

Ducane  did  not  chuckle  as  Dick  would  have  done.  His 
forehead  was  wet. 

"  Pleasure,"  he  said.  "  Pleasure,  good  Lord !  "  He 
caught  her  hands.  "  You  must  save  me,  Jenny,"  he  said. 
"  I  can't  stand  it,  I  can't.  Remember  I've  always  loved 
you,  little  girl " 

Jennifer  jerked  her  hands  free  and  stood  up.  She  could 
not  listen  to  the  desecration  of  that  word  which  had  once 
meant  so  much  to  her.  It  seemed  so  long  since  she  first 
knew  that  she  never  had  loved  Ducane.  Those  great 
things  which  she  had  thought  to  honour  in  him  were  never 
there.  She  was  the  supporter,  not  the  supported;  the 
mother  and  nurse,  not  the  wife.  She  had  lost,  lost  right 
through  in  this  game  of  love  which  she  had  been  playing, 
and  the  naked  path  of  duty  was  hard  for  a  young  heart 
to  follow. 

Dick  looked  down  and  saw  her,  a  slim,  tense  figure  in 
the  warm,  dull  light  that  wrapped  her,  and  for  a  back- 
ground the  great  naked  steel  breast  of  the  river  and  the 
far  faint  sky.  She  looked  so  little  and  lonely;  and  the 


158  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

man  at  her  feet  was  out  of  the  picture,  even  as  the  man 
on  the  upper  deck. 

"  I — will  do  what  I  can/'  said  Jennifer.  "  It  may  not 
be  much." 

Then  she  turned  from  him  and  climbed  the  ladder  to 
the  upper  deck,  for  she  dared  not  be  alone  with  herself 
just  then. 

The  air  on  the  upper  deck  was  charged  with  life  and 
laughter  and  talk,  and  a  swift  impulse  of  childish  longing 
made  Jennifer  slide  down  with  her  head  against  Mrs.  Car- 
ter's knee.  Her  own  mother  was  very  far  off  in  Ontario, 
with  half  a  continent  of  earth  and  more  than  a  continent 
of  knowledge  between  them;  but  the  hard,  rough  hand  that 
touched  her  forehead  now  and  again  was  a  mother's  hand 
also,  tender  with  love  for  an  absent  daughter. 

The  women  did  not  speak.  They  sat  on  the  surge  of  the 
man-talk  that  swept  them  this  way  and  that  through  air 
that  was  strong  with  tobacco-smoke  and  that  curious  pride 
which  falls  on  the  Northmen  when  they  speak  of  their 
own  domain.  For  the  North  and  the  things  of  the  North 
are  the  only  world  to  the  men  bred  in  it.  Brodribb  him- 
self had  never  seen  the  sea,  and  he  did  not  want  to.  He 
had  a  thousand  miles  and  a  thousand  added  of  good  earth 
to  his  either  hand,  and  the  lakes  he  knew  grew  shells  and 
seaweed  and  beat  their  wrinkled  cliffs  with  combers  from 
beyond  horizon.  And  if  the  waters  were  fresh  there  were 
salt-beds  and  salt-springs  for  moose  and  bear  and  buffalo 
to  find  their  comfort  in. 

Disconnectedly  the  talk  ran  round.  Talk  of  the  added 
bounty  on  timber  wolves,  bringing  it  to  twenty  dollars ; 
of  the  wood-buffalo  yet  killed  by  them  yearly,  and  Caird's 
belief  that  no  bounty  would  induce  the  superstitious  Indian 
to  court  ill-luck  by  slaying  a  timber-wolf  before  he 'went 
to  the  hunting.  Talk  of  the  "  strong  man  "  of  the  North 
who  had  just  won  home  beyond  all  records  by  dragging  a 
freighted  scow  unaided  up  the  Pelican  Rapids ;  of  "  Soft- 
wind-of-the-morning,"  the  Indian  girl  at  Great  Slave  Lake, 
who  had  so  queered  the  finest  trapper  in  her  tribe  that  he 
sat  without  her  father's  lodge  day  and  night,  starving  until 
his  bones  stood  out  for  love  of  her;  and  of  the  increased 
tracking-wage  and  the  price  of  silver  and  cross-fox  skins. 
Caird  told  of  the  prospectors  in  the  tar-soaked  sand 


"THE    RETURN    OF    OGILVIE "         159 

along  the  Athabaska,  who  struck  rock-salt  in  punching  an 
oil-shaft,  and  later  blew  their  whole  plant  to  high  heaven 
by  building  a  mosquito-smudge  over-near.  Brodribb  spoke 
of  a  bear-hunt  when  he  went  to  break  in  three  young  dogs 
and  lost  two.  But  he  came  home  with  the  pelt  and  a 
ripped-up  arm  where  the  white  steel-hard  claw  had 
touched. 

"  I  guess  it  wasn't  exactly  bear-baiting,"  he  said.  "  The 
bear  had  a  sporting  chance.  But  my  old  rifle  has  never 
played  dog  on  me  yet." 

Here  the  men  fell  on  technicalities  concerning  the  one 
weapon  which  means  life  on  the  trails;  and  Jennifer 
leaned  her  head  back  and  looked  in  Mrs.  Carter's  eyes. 

"  You  have  had  things  happen  to  you,  too  ?  "  she  whis- 
pered, and  the  grey-haired  woman  smiled. 

"  Why,"  she  said,  "  perhaps.  Things  like  cooking  sup- 
per for  thirty  children  when  it  is  pitch  dark  at  quarter  to 
four  and  you  can't  see  the  crowds  of  Indian  women 
squatted  about  you  cleaning  the  day's  fish-catch,  or  the 
children  who  steal  in  to  get  warm  by  the  stove,  or  the 
men  who  smoke  and  loaf  and  will  leave  the  door  open. 
And  when  you  go  to  the  cupboard  you  get  your  hand  in  a 
mouth  or  eyes,  or  you  step  on  something,  and  don't  know 
if  it  is  a  fish  or  a  human  or — or  what.  And  the  smell  is 
indescribable,  and  you  can  feel  the  dirt;  and  the  cold  and 
the  dark  are  real  things  that  press  on  you  and  make  you 
slow  and  cross  and  stupid.  But  it  is  worth  while,  you 
know.  They  love  us." 

"  And  love  is  a  very,  very  great  thing,"  said  Ducane's 
young  wife  gravely. 

A  few  mallard  splashed  in  the  reeds  alongside;  rose 
black  against  the  primrose  sky  and  flew  north  with  harsh 
clamour.  Dick  leaned  out  and  gave  their  call  back,  clear 
and  true  and  far  on  the  warm  air.  The  flight  wavered, 
wheeled,  and  came  circling.  Dick  called  again,  and  they 
dropped  with  sounding  beat  of  wings ;  realized  man,  and 
fled  in  a  terror  that  gave  them  no  quarter.  Brodribb  looked 
at  the  man  by  the  rail. 

"  I  reckon  you  never  starved  wherever  you  were  located," 
he  said,  and  Dick  looked  on  the  twilight  with  eyes  that 
dreamed  still  of  the  long  northern  sedges. 

"  But    I    always    preferred    life's    luxuries,"    he    said. 


160  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

"  Those  of  which  moose-nose  and  bear-tail  are  the  equiva- 
lents." 

"Give  me  caribou-tongue  for  luxury/'  said  Caird,  and 
his  fine  lined  face  was  eager.  "  The  tongue  of  a  young 
caribou  just  before  they  separate  in  the  ice-moon.  There's 
no  better  feeding  on  earth." 

"  I  ran  across  the  female  camp  on  the  shores  of  some 
lake  last  winter,"  said  Brodribb.  "  Thousands  of  'em, 
pushing  north  to  the  sea,  and  their  coats  just  prime.  When 
is  the  Government  sending  a  survey  into  that  country, 
Caird?  What  say?  Why,  it  was  in  west  of  Smith.  A 
fine  lake,  and  I  named  it  Caribou,  but  I  guess  I  won't  find 
it  any  more  unless  I  get  hold  of  the  Indians.  It  was  on 
one  of  their  stamping-grounds,  all  right.  Tepee-poles 
everywhere  in  the  snow." 

Grahame,  the  big  Mounted  Police  boy,  sat  forward  with 
hands  gripped  between  his  knees.  His  eyes  were  alight 
for  the  cold  white  nights  and  the  tepee-ribs  by  the  frozen 
lake  where  the  caribou  roamed  were  to  him  the  land 
where  he  would  be. 

"  And  a  fellow  could  shoot  them — and  shoot  bear !  "  he 
said. 

Dick  looked  at  him  keenly.  To  the  far-scattered  posts 
whose  positions  are  shown  on  the  Police  maps  by  little 
red  flags  come  many  grades  of  men  for  Canada's  serving. 
Sons  of  earls,  some;  medical  students,  and  clowns  and 
lumber-jacks;  men  from  all  the  regular  armies  of  the  earth; 
home-produced  farmers,  American  broncho-busters,  and 
everything  in  between.  Hours  ago  Dick  had  placed  Gra- 
hame as  the  younger  son  of  some  Scotch  laird  or  baronet, 
and  he  guessed  at  the  steady  Scotch  courage  which  the 
long  winter  patrols  would  not  daunt. 

"  I've  been  held  up  half-a-day  by  caribou  swimming 
Artillery  Lake,"  said  Caird.  "  It  was  a  sheer  black  line 
of  horns  ruled  across  it,  and  they  poured  down  over  the 
crest  of  the  hill  like  molasses  out  of  a  jug.  We  didn't 
dare  bring  our  canoes  near  for  fear  of  getting  mixed  up. 
So  we  paddled  around  and  timed  them.  That  bunch  took 
exactly  six  hours  and  eighteen  minutes  to  pass  a  given 
point.  They  weren't  sloushing  it  any,  either." 

"  Goo-od   Lord,"   said   young   Grahame,   and   drew  his 


"THE   RETURN    OF    OGILVIE"        161 

breath  in.     "What  a  country!     What  a  place  to  live  in! 
Do  you  do  everything  on  as  big  a  scale  as  that?  " 

"  I  suppose  that  some  of  our  men  are  the  smallest  things 
we  have,"  said  Dick  dryly,  and  turned  down  the  deck  as 
Ducane  came  up  the  ladder.  But  young  Grahame  followed 
him. 

"  Excuse  me/'  he  said  with  the  stately  courtesy  which 
made  Dick  put  his  choice  in  the  baronet-father.  "  I  hear 
that  you  know  Fort  Macpherson.  Can  you  tell  me  any- 
thing about  it,  for  I'm  going  there?  " 

Dick  leaned  on  the  rail.  It  had  been  nothing  dishon- 
ourable which  had  brought  this  lad  over-seas. 

"  You  have  come  after  adventure,  I  imagine,"  he  said. 
"  Well,  you'll  get  it — if  your  idea  of  it  happens  to  be  the 
same  as  that  of  the  Force.  You  will  have  to  cut  wood  and 
haul  it  four  or  five  miles — probably  more.  And  the  green 
fish  for  dog-feed  usually  has  to  come  from  Arctic  Red 
River — about  thirty-five  miles.  You'll  go  after  that  in  the 
winter,  through  anything  down  to  sixty  or  seventy  below 
zero,  instead  of  attending  balls  and  Caledonian  meetings. 
Some  day  you  may  shoot  your  bear  or  your  moose  to  save 
your  life — and  may  not  save  it  then.  There  is  the  routine 
work,  of  course.  And  the  patrols  to  Herschel  Island — 
two-fifty  miles  each  way.  The  Dawson  patrols — consider- 
ably longer  and  harder;  and  perhaps  another  to  Kittiga- 
zuit  You'll  have  to  chase  the  mountain  Indians  for  deer- 
meat  for  yourselves,  and  the  river  ones  for  fish  for  dog- 
feed.  The  Peel  hardly  gives  enough  to  last  the  summer." 
He  smiled  a  little.  "Have  I  frightened  you?"  he 
asked. 

"  Heavens !  "  said  young  Grahame.  "  It's  like  Feni- 
more  Cooper  and  all  the  rest  of  'em  rolled  into  one. 
You've  been  through  all  that !  " 

"  I  have  lived  through  it."  Then  Dick's  face  changed. 
"  I  wish  you  luck,"  he  said.  "  I  believe  you  are  probably 
going  to  be  a  credit  to  us." 

Grahame  looked  north  to  the  faint  stars  that  dipped  to 
the  waste  of  waters.  Beyond  them  he  was  to  find  stars 
yet  unseen,  and  his  heart  swelled  high  and  hot  in  him. 
Scotland's  sons  have  broken  the  trails  of  Canada  through 
all  the  dim  rusty  centuries  even  as  he  himself  would  do. 


162  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

That  kind  of  thing  does  not  go  into  words,  but  there  was 
something  else  which  did. 

"  And  I'll  be  able  to  shoot  bear!  "  he  said  reverently. 

For  some  days  Dick  kept  eyes  and  ears  ready  for  the 
clue  which  he  sought.  Then  he  discovered  it — through 
Jennifer.  He  came  along  the  upper  deck  to  find  her  talk- 
ing with  Mrs.  Carter,  and  there  were  some  photographs 
spread  on  her  knee.  She  looked  up  at  Dick's  step. 

"  I'm  taking  these  up  to  show  Mrs.  Lowndes  of  the 
Hudson  Bay,"  she  said.  "  For  I  think  they  are  some  of 
the  best  Harry  has.  I  hope  he'll  get  as  good  this  time. 
He  has  his  big  camera  with  him." 

Dick  put  his  pipe  away  and  inspected  the  photographs. 
Among  them  were  two  of  rolling  prairie-land  which  were 
familiar.  He  had  seen  them  in  a  pamphlet  brought  up  by 
the  German  to  whom  Robison  had  sold  his  land.  Shuffling 
a  handful  he  managed  to  abstract  one.  And  he  did  not 
feel  ashamed  of  himself  for  doing  so.  Anyone  who  could 
dare  fate  as  Ducane  appeared  to  do  deserved  to  have  his 
challenge  accepted.  Presently  Ducane  and  Robison  came 
by.  Ducane  was  more  cheerful  than  usual,  and  he  stopped 
graciously  to  be  complimented  on  his  work. 

"Why,  where  did  you  get  them,  Jenny?  "  he  said.  "  I 
never  gave  you  all  those." 

"  I  found  some  plates  in  one  of  your  drawers  and  printed 
these  myself.  And  they  are  nearly  as  good  as  yours."  She 
looked  up  at  him  saucily.  "  Wouldn't  you  think  that  was 
yours?  And  that?  And  that?  " 

Dick  caught  his  breath  as  she  held  up  the  last.  Had 
Ducane  sufficient  control?  He  had  not.  Blood  suffused 
his  eyes  and  skin  instantly.  He  snatched  it  from  her. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  meddling  with  my  drawers  ?  " 

he  said  fiercely.  "  By  ,  if  I  find  you  touching  my 

things  again — here ;  give  me  those." 

He  swept  the  armful  out  of  her  lap  and  flung  them 
overboard,  and  then  Robison  caught  him  by  the  arm  and 
walked  him  off.  And  the  suppressed  fury  on  Robison's 
face  was  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  see.  Jennifer  had  courage. 
She  looked  at  Mrs.  Carter,  and  then  she  looked  at  Dick. 

"  I  get  just  as  cross  when  anyone  pokes  into  my 
drawers,"  she  said.  "  Harry  hunted  through  them  once 


"THE    RETURN    OF    OGILVIE "        163 

for  a  necktie  of  his  that  I'd  been  wearing,  and  it  took 
me  a  week  to  put  them  straight.  I  expect  he's  afraid  of 
what  he'll  find  when  he  gets  back." 

She  laughed  a  little.  But  presently  she  got  up  and 
went  away.  Mrs.  Carter  turned  to  Dick. 

"Does  this  kind  of  thing  occur  often?"  she  asked. 

"  Well — it  varies  according  to  circumstances,"  said  Dick. 

"  Poor  child,"  said  the  elder  woman  softly.  "  Poor, 
brave  child." 

Then  she  too  got  up  and  went  away,  leaving  Dick  alone 
on  the  upper  deck,  except  for  Bessait  in  the  wheel-house. 
But  Bessait  lived  in  his  own  world  up  and  down  these 
hushed  ways  of  men  where  no  footprints  are  left  on  the 
trail,  and  his  far-seeing  gaze  seldom  homed  to  those  about 
him.  Dick  shut  the  photograph  into  his  pocket-book,  lit 
his  pipe  again,  and  settled  back  to  think  in  the  manner 
Tempest  knew  so  well ;  foot  held  over  his  knee  by  his 
hand;  shoulders  slightly  stooped,  and  eyes  dark  and  brood- 
ing. 

He  had  enough  now  to  warrant  a  search  into  Ducane's 
effects  when  he  went  back.  His  business  at  present  was 
to  see  where  those  two  went  in  Chipewyan ;  to  whom  they 
spoke,  and  what  photographs  they  took.  That  he  must  do 
unseen.  And  then,  when  people  began  to  rush  Lake  Atha- 
baska  land,  it  would  go  hard  with  him  if  he  did  not  sheet 
the  reason  for  it  home  to  Ducane.  Except  that  one  photo- 
graph and  Ducane's  rages,  which  were  not  producible 
proof,  he  had  nothing  yet  against  Ducane  which  would 
stand  in  a  law-court.  Concerning  Robison  he  knew  much 
more.  Link  by  link  he  went  over  in  his  mind  the  points 
which  he  did  know. 

Ducane  had  been  supplying  Robison  with  money  lately; 
Dick  had  seen  the  cheques.  Through  Robison's  assistance 
several  breeds  and  one  or  two  who  had  been  supposed  to 
be  Indians  had  managed  to  prove  themselves  of  sufficiently 
white  extraction  to  receive  scrip-land  from  Government. 
More  than  two  of  those  grants  had  passed  into  Robison's 
hands  publicly  and  been  sold  by  him.  The  others  prob- 
ably belonged  to  him  privately — or  to  Ducane.  There  was 
more  drinking  than  formerly  among  the  breeds — Dick  be- 
lieved he  could  account  for  that  when  he  was  ready. 


164.  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

Trappers  were  getting  in  debt  to  the  Hudsan  Bay  Com- 
pany and  leaving  it  to  trade  with  Robison.  Dick  had 
discovered  one  occasion  on  which  it  was  proved  that  Robi- 
son had  paid  twenty  per  cent,  less  than  the  Company  gave. 
But  the  trapper  was  drunkenly  happy  about  the  matter, 
and  a  little  later  he  gave  up  trapping  and  took  scrip  land. 
That  had  not  yet  passed  to  Robison — publicly. 

Dick  had  had  more  than  one  conversation  with  the  Ger- 
man who  had  settled  on  Robison's  river-frontage,  and  he 
had  found  those  conversations  valuable. 

"  I  enchoy  you,"  said  the  fat  German.  "  You  have  imat- 
chination.  When  I  egsblain  to  people  that  there  is  not  the 
Canada  Home-lot  Egstention  Company  anywhere  at  all, 
they  say  '  Ridiggleous.  We  haf  the  papers,  see.'  I  say 
that  I  did  go  to  their  address  and  what  do  I  findt?  A 
blace  on  the  groundt  floor  and  a  blace  on  the  top  where  is 
a  dirdy  man  who  baints  eggs-chru-chia-ting  bigdures.  And 
in  bedween  was  a  nod  so  young  a  lady  selling  babies' 
foodt.  No  Canada  Home-lot  Egstention  Gombany  there. 
Would  I  nod  haf  id  seen?  " 

Dick  felt  more  than  a  legitimate  interest  in  the  dirty 
man.  But  he  did  not  say  so. 

"  Of  course,"  he  said.  "  Your  only  chance  lies  in  finding 
out  from  this  end.  You  say  nothing,  and  I  say  nothing. 
But  we  observe.  And  presently  we  know." 

"  Egsactly,"  said  the  German  with  a  long  breath.  "  Ah, 
you  the  imachination  haf,  my  friendt." 

The  German  passed  in  review  through  Dick's  mind. 
Then  he  summed  up.  To  remove  Robison  that  he  might 
answer  in  some  still  cell  for  the  passing  of  Ogilvie  would 
cripple  his  own  future  operations  very  much.  To  arrest 
him  on  a  charge  of  swindling  the  breeds  out  of  their  scrip- 
land  might  open  up  the  whole  affair.  But  Robison  could 
hardly  be  tried  for  roguery  after  he  had  been  condemned 
and  hung  for  murder,  and  Dick  dared  not  waive  the  knowl- 
edge which  he  had  bullied  out  of  Andree.  He  regretted  that 
knowledge  now.  He  wanted  to  make  his  big  coup,  and  he 
did  not  yet  see  the  way  to  do  it.  And  then  he  heard  Jen- 
nifer laugh  in  the  saloon  below,  and  it  started  him  up  on 
his  feet  to  walk  the  deck  with  his  face  set  and  his  eyes 
cruelly  determined. 


"THE   RETURN    OF    OGILVIE"        165 

He  could  not  leave  this  trail  where  the  scent  was  so  illu- 
sive and  where  his  mind  ran  so  sure  and  rapidly.  He 
could  not  leave  it,  even  for  her.  She  would  suffer  for  it 
presently,  and  so  would  he;  and  he  would  watch  the  strug- 
gles of  both  with  a  vivisecting  eye  because  this  great  curi- 
ous problem  of  life,  swayed  by  emotion,  and  trapped  by 
circumstance,  and  controlled  by  some  undiscernible  power 
had  its  grip  on  him  and  it  would  not  let  go.  It  possessed 
him,  side  by  side,  with  his  love,  and  it  made  his  face  grow 
cruel  as  he  walked. 

"  She  is  better  without  him,"  he  said.     "  And  she'll  love 

me  in  spite  of  this.     By  ,  she  shall."     Then  his  eyes 

narrowed,  and  he  smiled  slowly.  "  But  it  is  more  than 
possible  that  I'll  pay  heavily  all  the  same/'  he 
added. 

In  the  following  days  he  told  stories  and  sang  songs  and 
sketched  sketches  of  the  whole  ship's  company,  until  men 
talked  apart  of  the  suggestion  of  fear  which  he  had  flung 
into  the  bluff  mask  of  Ducane's  face,  and  the  hint  of  tragedy 
in  the  soft  features  of  the  little  "  fur-pup."  Jennifer  spoke 
of  this  to  Dick  one  evening  when  chance  had  left  them 
alone  on  the  upper  deck  with  a  breed  at  the  wheel  to  hold 
the  "  Northern  Light "  on  her  clear  course  of  scarlet  where 
the  dying  sun  lay  bleeding. 

"  He  wants  it  to  send  to  his  mother,  poor  little  boy," 
she  said.  "  Don't  let  him  have  it.  You  had  no  right  to 
put  that  look  in  his  face." 

"  I'm  sorry.  But  I  saw  it.  People  say  that  I  see  too 
much,  you  know." 

He  smiled  down  at  her  with  that  hint  of  mockery  which 
she  saw  seldom,  and  her  lips  quivered. 

"If  you  have  that  power  you  will  be  held  very  respon- 
sible, some  day,"  she  said. 

"  I  shall  be  very  willing  to  meet  my  creditors.  They 
have  added  much  to  the  interest  of  life  for  me,  and  I  hope 
they  won't  find  me  ungrateful.  What  do  you  think  of 
the  French  Brother?  The  man  who  never  speaks — even 
to  you?  " 

"  How  can  I  think  anything?  At  table  he  pokes  me 
and  points  to  what  he  wants,  and  he  won't  look  at  me. 
Oh "  She  took  the  sketch  Dick  put  into  her  hands. 


166  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"How  like  him.  But — I  hadn't  thought — yes;  there  is 
that  look  of  repression  and  of  exaltation  about  him  some- 
where. As  if  he  had  overcome  greatly.  But  I  never 
thought  you  would  have  seen  that." 

Dick  took  the  sketch,  pushing  it  back  into  his  pocket. 

"Why  not?"  he  asked  very  quietly. 

Jennifer  looked  away  to  the  reedy  banks  where  the  wild 
ducks  splashed.  A  faint  grey  knot  of  shacks  and'  tepees 
stood  against  a  wedge  of  dark  pine-forest  on  the  shore, 
and  across  the  pure  shining  mauve  of  the  river  a  canoe 
shot  out,  breaking  level  silver  lines  that  ridged  each  wave 
from  bank  to  bank.  The  "  Hya — he-e-e-e  "  cry  of  the  pad- 
dler  came  sharply,  and  Dick  stooped. 

"Why  not?"  he  said,  and  Jennifer  looked  up,  half- 
laughing. 

"  Why — I  have  thought  you  were  too  materialistic,"  she 
said. 

Dick  glanced  at  her.  Then  he  set  his  lips  together; 
drew  a  piece  of  millboard  from  a  skin-case  in  his  breast- 
pocket and  put  it  into  her  hands.  He  watched  her  while 
she  looked  at  it.  In  all  warm,  delicate  tints  it  stood  out; 
a  carefully,  tenderly,  finished  portrait  of  herself,  as  unlike 
the  bold,  crude  sketches  which  he  made  of  men  as  Jenni- 
fer herself  was  unlike  them.  The  wistful  lips  were  there 
and  the  brave  half-dread  in  the  eyes.  Jennifer  dropped 
it  and  hid  her  face.  She  felt  as  though  this  man  had 
looked  on  her  naked  soul. 

"  Oh-h,"  she  said. 

The  breeze  swept  the  funnel-flag  of  bright  wood-sparks 
across  them.  Dick  brushed  a  gleam  from  Jennifer's  shoul- 
der, feeling  her  wince. 

"  No  one  else  has  seen  it,"  he  said. 

"  But — you  have,"  said  Jennifer,  and  her  words  were 
stifled. 

"  I  could  not  help  that,  Jennifer,"  he  said. 

The  name  drew  her  eyes  up  to  his.  And  she  knew  what 
they  said  and  what  hers  answered  as  a  man  knows  numbly 
the  sentence  of  death  when  it  is  read  out  to  him:  knows 
it  as  a  thing  outside  his  control  or  comprehension;  as  a 
thing  which  is.  She  sprang  up  wildly,  pushing  her  hands 
out. 


"THE    RETURN    OF    OGILVIE "         167 

"  No !  "  she  said  with  dry  throat.     "  No !     No !  " 

She  ran  past  him  and  down  the  ladder,  and  Dick  walked 
the  little  dusky  deck  for  very  long;  quiet- footed,  and  for- 
getting his  pipe,  while  the  bells  clanged  off  the  hours  and 
shunted  them  over,  with  all  their  prayers  and  passions, 
into  eternity. 

Once  he  stood  still  and  laughed ;  half-angry,  half- 
relieved.  "  It  had  to  come,  soon  or  late,"  he  said.  "  But 
if  I  hadn't  been  a  fool  it  would  have  been  late.  It  was 
going  to  be  bad  enough  to  take  the  man  before.  It  will 
be  the  very  devil  now." 

He  walked  on  slowly. 

"But  I've  got  to  take  him,"  he  said.  "I've  cashed  in 
every  other  mortal  thing  at  the  bank  of  my  desires,  but 
I'm  damned  if  I'll  let  my  brain  go  too.  Ducane  has  got 
to  justify  me.  And  then  I've  got  to  justify  myself — with 
Jennifer." 

Down  in  the  little  bare  cabin  which  she  shared  with  Mrs. 
Carter,  Jennifer  lay  headlong  on  the  sweet-grass  mattress, 
gripping  the  pillow  close  over  her  eyes.  She  was  terrified 
to  the  quick  by  the  fierce  life  of  the  knowledge  which  had 
broken  on  her,  and  with  stiff  lips  and  dizzy  brain  she  tried 
to  pray  herself  back  into  the  old  ignorance.  But  always 
the  merciless  What  Is  scattered  her  will  and  denied  her 
help. 

"  God !  "  she  cried.     "  Oh,  God !     Oh,  God !  " 

And  then  she  shivered,  pressing  the  pillow  with  shaking 
hands  against  her  eyes. 

Once,  long,  long  ago,  in  those  days  when  Ducane  meant 
Hcavrn  to  her,  Tempest  had  called  her  a  civilizing  influ- 
ence. She  felt  a  smile  twitch  her  lips  mirthfully.  A  civi- 
lizing influence!  She!  She  who  knew  the  uncivilized  ele- 
ments of  primal  nature  which  are  beyond  all  traditions,  all 
help,  all  law.  She  who  loved  where  she  would  have  given 
her  right  arm  not  to  have  loved,  and  could  not  love  where 
all  her  prayers  and  duty  lay.  She  who  had  touched  sud- 
denly to  the  heart  of  those  huge  forces  which  sway  the  im- 
mortal soul,  and  who  had  to  face  them,  giddy  and  alone, 
with  all  outward  interpretation  driven  back  from  eyes  and 
tongue.  For  a  brief  while  Jennifer  was  a  raw  soul  strug- 
gling with  eternal  problems  back  of  the  crusted  beams  of 


168  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

time  and  the  torn  tie-ribs  of  old  earth.  Mrs.  Carter  came 
in  softly;  asked  for  and  accepted  the  woman's  eternal  ex- 
cuse of  a  headache;  undressed  and  climbed  into  the  upper 
bunk.  Jennifer  lay  still  with  her  eyes  on  the  dark  now, 
and  the  steamer  moved  on  with  the  strange  hush  of  mid- 
night around  it. 

The  engine  heart-beat  stopped  suddenly  with  a  shudder 
like  the  coming  of  death.  Men  called;  moccasined  feet 
pattered  the  decks  and  the  gang-plank  ran  out  with  com- 
plaining squeals.  Jennifer  slid  off  the  bunk  and  looked 
from  the  unglassed  eight-inch  window.  The  boat  lay  along 
a  tall,  dark  bank  where  the  pines  were  jewelled  on  their 
tops  by  the  stars.  A  flare  glowed  redly  over  the  gang- 
plank and  over  a  string  of  silent,  stooping  figures  which 
trod  up  it  slow  and  burdened  and  ran  back  swift  and 
lightly.  To  Jennifer  came  the  fancy  that  each  man 
brought  his  burden  of  sins  across  the  bridge  of  repentance 
and  turned  earthward  to  his  work  again,  glad  and  for- 
given. 

She  had  seen  river-steamers  wooding-up  many  times 
before  this.  But  the  dark  pines  and  the  white  face  of 
the  stacked  timber;  the  red,  uncertain  flare  and  the  silent 
bowed  procession  moving  in  moccasined  stealthiness  took 
the  blank  reality  from  it.  And  then  she  saw  Dick,  tread- 
ing the  plank  with  sure  light  feet;  bare-armed  where  he 
gripped  the  rough  wood ;  bare-throated  where  the  black 
head  rose  beside  it.  He  passed,  with  a  flickering  dark 
shadow  behind  him,  and  Jennifer  crept  back  to  the  bunk 
because  she  dared  not  watch  for  that  figure  again. 

But  long  after  the  flare  died  out;  long  after  the  steamer 
sheered  into  the  stream,  and  the  talk  and  tread  of  men  in 
the  alley-way  ceased,  and  the  smell  of  tobacco  grew  fainter, 
Jennifer  stole  back  to  the  window,  and  saw  the  stars  wheel 
their  courses  under  the  eye  of  the  moon.  There  was  no 
sleep  for  her  where  all  the  world  was  dreaming. 

For  a  man  may  sweat  his  present  devils  out  by  savage 
work.  But  a  woman  must  pray  them  out — or  let  them 
stay. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

"  ON    THE    ATHABASKA  " 

"  WHO  spilt  that  ?  "  roared  Ducane. 

He  lay  on  Chipewyan  beach,  with  the  red  flare  from  the 
mosquito-smudges  over  him,  and  over  half  the  population 
of  Chipewyan  where  they  celebrated  the  undoubted  fact 
that  the  year's  permits  had  come  from  the  South,  and  that 
it  was  the  whole  duty  of  man  to  see  that  no  one  drop  of 
them  remained  upon  another  by  daybreak. 

Out  of  the  dark  and  noisy  ring  where  ribald  songs  and 
drunken  laughter  had  gone  up  these  four  hours  past  a  face 
thrust  forward.  There  was  moisture  on  the  forehead  and 
the  skin  by  the  nostrils  glistened.  But  by  the  tight  lips 
and  the  still  keen  eyes  Ducane  knew  it. 

"  I  spilt  that  drink  of  yours,"  said  Dick.  "  And  if 
you're  civil  you  shall  have  another.  But  I  won't  wait  on 
a  man  who  talks  like  a  drunken  cad." 

Ducane  sat  up.  He  was  flushed  with  conquest  because, 
a  few  hours  earlier,  he  had  forced  a  promise  from  Jenni- 
fer. She  had  given  it,  brief  and  low,  and  without  emotion, 
and  he  was  not  afraid  of  Dick  Heriot  any  longer.  Jen- 
nifer would  manage  him  now.  Jennifer  would  keep  him 
out  of  the  way  whilst  he  and  Robison  did  the  work  which 
they  had  come  North  to  do.  He  laughed. 

"  Better  than  acting  like  one,"  he  said.  "  I  could  tell 
things  of  you,  Corporal  Heriot." 

Dick  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  had  spent  unprofitable 
hours  in  trying  to  discover  why  Ducane  and  Robison  had 
chartered  beforehand  the  only  tug  in  Chipewyan  and  what 
they  were  going  to  do  with  it.  He  had  spent  more  in 
trying  to  decide  whether  he  should  arrest  Robison  now 
or  whether  he  might  gain  more  by  letting  him  do  his  work. 
And  finally,  he  had  drunk  with  the  revellers  on  the  beach 
until  his  temper  was  acutely  on  edge  and  his  restlessness 
almost  bevond  restraint. 

169 


170  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  Tell  them/'  he  said.  "  I'll  guarantee  they're  no  worse 
than  some  we  have  heard  from  you  to-night." 

"  Keep  that  you-be-damned  nature  of  yours  quiet,  Her- 
iot,"  advised  Brodribb;  and  Ducane  laughed  again. 

"  It's  the  women  can  tell  most,  I  guess.  Maybe  my 
wife " 

"  Yes?  "  Dick's  hands  shut  with  a  sudden  jerk.  "  Your 
wife ?" 

"  She's  lucky  to  have  a  husband  who  knows  enough  to 
look  after  her/'  sneered  Ducane. 

With  a  sharp  curse  Dick  sprang  up,  and  Lowndes  caught 
at  his  leg. 

"  Steady,  Heriot ;  the  man's  drunk,"  he  cried. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  touch  him ; "  Dick  kicked  himself 
free.  "  I  have  neither  gloves  nor  boots  on." 

He  swung  down  the  beach  into  the  dark,  and  Ducane 
looked  after  him  in  tipsy  triumph.  He  had  made  Jenni- 
fer's task  easier  for  her,  and  he  had  satisfied  his  own  evil 
temper  in  the  doing  of  it.  He  rolled  over  with  a  grunt, 
and  thrust  out  his  granite  cup. 

"  Give  me  another  drink,  somebody,"  he  said. 

Dick  went  down  the  beach  with  face  white  and  bitten 
lips.  Insults  to  himself  never  troubled  him,  but  this  insult 
to  Jennifer  cut  deep.  And  the  truth  of  it  stung. 

Where  the  beach  lay  up  to  the  forehead  of  the  dark 
wood  the  factor's  house  showed,  low  and  pale,  palely,  and 
there  was  something  white  beyond  it  which  took  the  shape 
of  a  woman  as  Dick  came  near.  He  knew  it  at  once. 
Jennifer  had  found  the  night  too  hot  for  sleep,  and  she 
had  come  out  to  look,  like  Beatrice,  over  the  hedge  of  her 
innocence  at  those  Dante-fires  along  the  distance.  Dick 
had  kept  himself  apart  from  her  since  that  night  on  the 
steamer  deck,  fifty  hours  ago.  He  had  hurt  her  enough 
for  the  present,  and  her  white  face  and  strained  eyes  told 
it.  By  and  by  he  would  speak,  and  she  would  listen.  But 
all  that  was  good  in  him  repented  that  he  had  done  this 
when  there  was  no  escape  for  her  from  either  Ducane  or 
himself,  and  he  trod  past  her  now  with  head  a  little  away 
and  down,  and  a  silent,  suddenly-awkward  salute.  And  at 
that  moment  he  was  near  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven  be- 
cause of  the  reverence  in  him. 


«ON    THE    ATHABASKA"  171 

And  then  Jennifer  laughed ;  laughed  close  beside  him  in 
the  hot  dusky  night;  laughed  a  little  mocking  laugh  that 
brought  the  blood  stinging  to  his  face.  He  stood,  dazed 
as  though  the  laugh  had  been  a  blow. 

"Weren't  you  going  to  speak  to  me?  "  she  asked. 

She  stood  with  hands  linked  behind  her  and  head  cocked 
in  that  saucy  way  which  she  used  to  Slicker,  and — in  those 
age-old  days  when  friendship  was  possible — to  himself. 
Now — with  the  thing  that  lay  between  them.  Now — when 
he  dared  not  lift  his  eyes  to  her — she  could  laugh,  and  she 
could  look  at  him  like  that. 

"  I  had  thought  that  you  would  have  preferred "  he 

began  stupidly.     But  his  head  was  singing.     Why  did  she 
look  at  him  like  that? 

"What  made  you  come  away  from  them?"  cried  Jen- 
nifer. "  I  can  only  stand  a  long  way  off  and  hear  them 
laughing.  We  can  never  have  such  a  good  time,  you  know. 
/  can't  go  and  make  offerings  to  Bacchus." 

"  He  never  objects  to  a  Bacchante,"  said  Dick. 

He  reddened,  and  would  have  taken  it  back,  but  Jennifer 
laughed  again,  rocking  on  heels  and  toes.  Her  whole  atti- 
tude was  daring,  sharply  vivid.  She  looked  light  as  a 
cloud  and  as  free.  She  was  the  essence  of  life,  distilled 
to  a  burning  drop,  and  Dick  was  not  the  man  to  look  on 
her  unknowing  it.  He  caught  his  breath,  coming  near 
with  tingling  blood.  This  was  not  the  white  lady  of  his 
worship.  It  was  not  Jennifer.  He  did  not  know  who  it 
was.  He  did  not  know  anything,  but  that  he  would  have 
his  hands  on  her  presently. 

She  moved  a  few  steps  down  the  beach,  looking  back 
at  him  over  her  shoulder.  And  what  she  saw  contented 
her.  She  was  playing  her  game,  full  and  fiercely  as  a 
woman  can  play  it,  and  already  she  had  puzzled  the  man. 
In  one  moment  she  had  smashed  all  his  theories  and  left 
his  slower  mind  fumbling  on  the  edge  of  something  strange. 
And  before  he  had  grasped  that  with  masculine  decision 
she  would  be  somewhere  else.  The  spirit  of  illusion,  of 
excitement,  of  snatching  hot  coals  and  dropping  them  with 
such  swiftness  that  they  would  not  burn  was  on  her.  She 
saw  him  follow,  and  she  was  glad,  for  her  hate  for  him 
was  as  great  as  her  love.  He  had  flung  her  heart  down 


172  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

from  the  secret  place  where  she  kept  it,  and  he  knew  it. 
Now  he  was  going  to  unknow  it,  while  she  discovered  him 
for  what  he  was.  It  would  hurt  her  to  see  it,  and  she 
desired  to  be  hurt.  She  desired  to  trick  and  baffle  and 
shame  him;  to  win  all  along  the  line  for  Ducane  and  for 
her  wifehood  calm  again. 

A  canoe  lay  down  the  beach,  nosing  the  water-ripple. 
Jennifer  slipped  in,  a  little  white  heap  against  the  dark 
edge. 

"  Take  me  out  where  it  is  cool  and  black,"  she  said. 
"  I  want  to  watch  the  fires." 

Dick  ran  it  out  with  one  push ;  leapt  in,  and  knelt,  grasp- 
ing the  paddle.  He  shot  over  the  water  with  long  savage 
strokes  until  their  outline  was  merged  in  the  distant  shore- 
line. Then  he  rested  the  dripping  paddle  and  looked  at  her 
with  her  head  among  the  stars  as  they  floated  in  the  dark 
between  heaven  and  the  red  flames  on  the  beach.  He  did 
not  speak.  He  did  not  attempt  to  adjust  the  universe 
which  she  had  cast  in  broken  shards  about  him.  He  did 
not  remember  the  difference  between  right  and  wrong. 
The  electricity  of  the  night  and  of  her  nearness  led  him 
into  the  trap  she  set. 

"Do  you  remember  Browning's  'Two  in  a  gondola'?" 
said  Jennifer,  idly  dabbling  her  hand  in  the  water.  "  I 
think  a  canoe  is  much  nicer  than  a  gondola." 

"  It's  not,"  said  Dick,  who  remembered  over-well. 
"  You  can't  move  in  a  canoe." 

"Why  should  you  want  to  move?"  said  Jennifer  inno- 
cently. 

Dick  bit  his  lip.  He  could  be  subtle  in  some  ways,  but 
he  did  not  begin  to  know  how  subtle  a  woman  can  be 
when  she  has  an  end  to  gain. 

"  You  know  better  than  to  ask  that,  don't  you?  "  he  said. 

Jennifer  laughed  a  very  little.  He  was  going  to  be  just 
what  she  had  expected  him  to  be.  He  was  going  to  kill 
that  unlawful  love  with  his  own  hand,  just  as  Ducane  had 
killed  the  lawful  love. 

"  Perhaps  I  am  glad  that  you  know  better  than  to  tell 
it,"  she  said. 

Dick  drove  the  canoe  further  out.  From  the  shore  the 
delirium  of  the  bagpipes  and  the  smell  of  smoke  came 


"ON    THE    ATHABASKA"  173 

faintly.     The  hot  night  beat  on  his  skin,  making  it  hotter. 

"  How  many  women  are  you?  "  he  said  suddenly  and 
thickly. 

"Are  you  just  beginning  to  find  out  that  I  am  more 
than  one?  " 

He  was  at  a  disadvantage  already. 

"  I  am  beginning  to  find  out  that  you  are  not  the  woman 
I  thought  you." 

"  Are  you  sure  now  that  I  am  the  woman  you  think 
me?  " 

Dick  flung  the  paddle  down. 

"  Let  me  come  nearer  and  I'll  tell  you " 

"Wait!"  She  leaned  forward  and  her  voice  was 
changed.  "  I  want  to  ask  you  something.  Would  you  do 
— for  me — a  thing  that  you  did  not  want  to  do?  " 

The  sweet  true  ring  was  back  in  her  voice  again.  Dick 
paddled  in  silence.  Then  he  said  huskily: 

"  You  can  remember  two  nights  ago  and  ask  me  that  ?  " 

The  thrust  made  Jennifer  wince.  She  had  not  expected 
it — not  in  that  tone.  Then  she  rallied. 

"But  how  was  I  to  know  that  you  had  remembered?" 
she  asked. 

"  I — I  had  thought  that  was  the  only  thing "     Dick 

stopped,  and  swift,  bitter  derision  of  himself  swept  over 
him.     Had  he  been  insanely  careful  of  a  thing  which  was 
not  there?     Had  he  been  scourging  himself  for  his  cruelty 
to  her  while  she  had  been  laughing  at  his  silence? 
-  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  suppose  you  realise  that  your  question  gives  the 
answer  to  that,"  he  said.  "  Sit  still,  for  I  am  coming  up 
to  your  end  to  talk  to  you." 

She  saw  him  move,  and  she  sprang  up  instantly.  Dick 
crouched,  motionless,  with  his  mouth  dry.  "  Sit  down," 
he  said.  "  For  God's  sake,  sit  down !  I  couldn't  swim 
in  with  you  from  here." 

A  moment  longer  she  stood,  feeling  in  a  sudden  wildness 
that  death  was  best — death  was  easier  than  life.  Then 
she  dropped  back,  controlled  by  her  knowledge  of  God's 
"  shalt  nots."  But  her  head  was  giddy.  She  had  set  her- 
self to  test  Dick's  real  nature,  and  already  she  believed 
that  she  hated  it.  It  was  as  necessary  for  her  to  prove 


174  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

the  worthlessness  of  the  man  she  loved  as  it  was  for  her 
to  hide  the  worthlessness  of  the  man  whom  she  did  not 
love.  It  was  as  necessary  for  her  to  save  Ducane  as  it 
was  for  Dick  to  destroy  him,  and  for  precisely  the  same 
reason.  And  she  was  going  to  win.  But  the  knowledge 
of  it  burnt  her  like  hot  irons. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  what  it  was  I  wanted  you  to  do  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  I'll  do  anything  you  tell  me,  you  witch,  so  long  as  you 
don't  try  to  drown  yourself  again.  What  is  it,  Jennifer?  " 

She  leaned  forward.  There  was  only  the  worn-down 
butt  of  an  old  moon  up  in  the  sky,  but  its  light  was  full 
on  her  face;  that  daring,  mocking  face  which  was  not 
Jennifer's. 

"  You've  promised,"  she  said.  "  Now  tell  me.  You 
came  because  Harry  and  Robison  were  coming." 

His  face  changed.     His  natural  suspicion  awoke. 

"  What  reason  could  there  be  for  my  coming  after 
them?  "  he  countered. 

She  shook  her  head,  and  the  come-and-go  smile  on  the 
crooked  mouth  excited  him. 

"  Oh,  you  men,"  she  said.  "  You  can  promise  so  gal- 
lantly; but  when  it  comes  to  doing — why,  where  are  you 
then  ?  " 

"  If  you  would  tell  me  why  you  want  to  know " 

"Are  you  bargaining  with  me — Dick?  " 

"  No.  No.  I'll  tell  you.  I  have  come  to  watch  them. 
You  must  make  up  to  me  for  this,  you  know,  for  I  have 
practically  put  all  I  have  in  your  hands  by  saying  so." 

"  Then  why  did  you  say  it?  " 

"  You  appeared  to  want  it  as  a  proof  of  my  affection. 
Have  you  forgotten  that  already  ?  " 

His  voice  kept  the  thin  edge  of  a  sneer  for  all  its  ardour. 
She  shut  her  nails  close  into  her  palm.  Just  now  she 
hated  him  as  she  would  never  hate  her  husband.  For  she 
had  never  loved  Ducane. 

"  But  you  can't  watch  then  unless  you  know  where  they 
are  going,"  she  said.  "  I  am  not  bargaining  with  you, 
Dick.  I'll  tell  you.  They  are  taking  the  tug  up  to  Lob- 
stick  Island  very  early  in  the  morning — before  anyone  is 
awake." 


"ON    THE    ATHABASKA"  175 

She  felt  the  canoe  swerve  at  Dick's  start,  and  she  saw 
his  eyes  stare. 

"  Good  God !  "  he  said.  Then,  "  Do  you  realise  what 
you  are  saying?  " 

Jennifer  had  not  told  the  first  deliberate  lie  of  her  life 
without  realising  it. 

"  How  much  do  you  expect  me  to  bear  ?  "  she  cried  in 
sudden  passion.  "If  you  want  him  take  him.  Take  him, 
and  let  me  be  free — free  of  him  and  of  you  and  of  every- 
one. Oh,  I'm  tired  of  it  all.  I'm  tired." 

There  was  enough  truth  in  this  to  put  the  real  ring  in 
her  voice.  Dick  looked  at  her  with  his  eyes  hard  and 
sombre.  Then  he  turned  his  head  with  a  slight  shrug  of 
his  shoulders  and  looked  out  over  the  dark  water.  He 
was  utterly  stunned;  utterly  disgusted.  This  was  Jen- 
nifer !  This  was  the  woman  for  whose  sake  he  had  so 
deeply  regretted  his  past  life!  The  bitter  humour  of  his 
nature  woke  again.  It  was  only  the  old  game  which  life 
always  played  him.  .  Always  there  was  a  worm  within 
the  apple;  and  always  he  had  to  bite  to  find  it  out;  and 
always  the  mouthful  sickened  him.  But  never  as  now. 
Never  as  now;  because  he  loved  her  and  he  had  rever- 
enced her.  He  looked  at  her  again.  She  was  leaning 
forward  with  her  eyes  lit  and  eager  and  her  lips  half- 
drawn  back  from  the  little  sharp  teeth. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said.  "  I  see  that  I  have  given  my- 
self a  great  deal  of  extra  trouble.  I  might  as  well  have 
come  to  you  for  the  whole  affair  long  ago.  My  knowledge 
of — women  has  been  at  fault  again." 

"  But  I  wouldn't  have  told  you  until  I  knew  that  you 
cared  for  me,"  said  Jennifer  softly. 

Her  words  turned  him  suddenly  cold  in  the  hot  night. 
He  picked  up  the  paddle  and  drove  the  canoe  homeward 
in  a  complete  silence  until  the  prow  grounded  in  the 
squishy  sand,  and  he  sprang  out  into  the  little  protesting 
ripples  and  reached  his  hand  to  her.  He  held  it,  looking 
down  at  her  with  the  mocking  contempt  in  face  and 
voice. 

"  You  deserve  a  kiss  for  that  information,"  he  said. 
"  But  you're  not  going  to  get  it.  You  have  probably  sold 
your  husband  to  me  to-night,  Mrs.  Ducane,  and  if  I  buy 


176  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

that  ends  the  transaction.  I  am  not  asking  any  commis- 
sion. Good-night." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  her,  walking  straight  up 
the  beach  to  the  barracks.  Jennifer  stood  still,  watching 
him;  half-giddy  yet  with  relief  and  thankfulness. 

The  lights  were  pulsing  brightly  on  the  shore,  and  the 
bagpipe  skirl  and  the  laughter  came  up  fitfully.  They 
had  been  less  than  an  hour  away,  but  to  Jennifer  it  had 
been  many  ages.  She  had  won  out  for  Ducane,  because 
Dick  would  most  certainly  start  for  Lobstick  Island  at 
once.  And  she  had  lost  for  herself;  lost  for  always,  be- 
cause she  could  never  feel  contempt  for  the  man  who  had 
flung  his  contempt  at  her  so  unequivocally.  She  went  back, 
and  through  the  verandah-door  to  her  own  room,  dropping 
wearily  on  the  bed.  For  the  fire  that  had  charged  her 
actions  was  spent,  and  the  grey  ash  of  it  lay  chill  on  her 
heart. 

Dick  went  into  the  barracks  and  found  Forsyth,  the  ser- 
geant, preparing  for  bed.  And  he  stood  in  tlae  door  and 
delivered  his  desires  without  circumlocution. 

"  I'll  want  you,"  he  said.  "  And  I  want  a  boat  that  will 
sail.  I'm  starting  up  the  lake  for  Lobstick  in  ten  min- 
utes." 

The  jar  in  walk  and  tone  enlightened  Forsyth.  He 
knew  of  Dick  as  a  man  absolutely  invaluable  in  his  own 
class  of  work  and  utterly  dangerous  to  thwart. 

"  Sure,"  he  said  placidly,  and  proceeded  to  get  into  his 
boots  again. 

He  limped  as  he  moved,  quite  perceptibly,  for  the  ten- 
dons of  his  left  leg  were  stiffened  by  an  ice-cut  won  on 
a  midwinter  Yukon  patrol.  He  had  spliced  and  sewn  up 
the  wound  and  gone  his  way  of  two  hundred  miles  and 
over.  But  he  would  never  walk  like  other  men  again. 
Dick  took  belt  and  revolver  from  the  bed-foot  and  buckled 
them  on.  He  had  left  them  there  earlier  in  the  evening. 

"  What's  doing  on  the  beach  ?  "  he  said. 

Forsyth  was  Dick's  superior  in  the  Force,  but  he  had 
the  wit  to  recognise  the  younger  man's  superiority  in  every- 
thing else. 

"  Why — they're  mostly  goin'  home.  Amazin'  peaceable 
they  are,  too.  Ducane  was  gittin'  nasty,  but  Robisou 


"ON    THE   ATHABASKA"  177 

hauled  him  off  some  place.  I  guess  he's  watchin'  out  for 
Ducane  these  days." 

"  They're  going  to  Lobstick,"  said  Dick.  "  We're  want- 
ing to  be  there  first.  You  must  come  yourself." 

Forsyth  swore  liberally. 

"  Pshaw !  I  guess  they'd  be  apt  to  hit  the  trail  some 
twelve  hours  before  we  could  raise  it.  D'you  know  how 
far  it  aims  to  be  up  to  Lobstick?" 

"  I  imagine  it  is  as  many  miles  for  them  as  for  us.  And 
there's  a  breeze  making  right  now.  Are  you  ready  ?  " 

"  Why  it  is  going  to  take  us  two  days — likely  three." 

"  I  intend  that  it  shall  be  less  than  that.  Who  has  a 
dinghy?  WTio?  Very  well.  Meet  me  on  the  beach,  for 
it's  important  that  you  come  too." 

Forsyth  was  there  within  twenty  minutes.  He  had  a 
smart  young  constable  with  him,  and  he  poured  directions 
out  at  every  step.  Dick,  superintending  the  stowing  of 
water  and  provisions,  turned  to  add  his  word  also. 

"  Watch  what  time  those  two  get  off,"  he  said.  "  And  if 
tin  y  ask  for  me  say  I  am  drunk,  or  sleeping  in.  Take  note 
of  anything  unusual  you  may  see.  And — Hinds,  the 
'  Northern  Light '  won't  go  out  till  mid-day.  Let  no  one 
know  where  we  have  gone.  Say  Forsyth  is  on  patrol  and 
I  am  drunk  or  sick — anything." 

The  night  was  blowing  up  dark  and  suggestive  of  thun- 
der. Scattered  white-caps  showed  here  and  there  down 
the  distance.  It  was  a  cross-wind,  blowing  in  nasty,  choppy 
puffs,  and  the  powerful  breed  who  helped  Dick  run  the 
sail  up  predicted  trouble  very  shortly. 

"If  it  comes  it  comes,"  said  Dick,  and  crouched  down 
in  the  stern-sheets.  "  Don't  be  afraid  to  let  her  have  all 
she  can  take,  Honore." 

Honore  knew  all  that  there  was  to  know  about  a  dinghy, 
and  about  a  wind  that  bellied  the  sail  and  slapped  it  flat 
and  endeavoured  to  unstep  the  mast  all  at  once  and  the 
same  moment.  And  they  ran  out  into  the  swift-coming 
storm,  with  the  combing  of  the  wind  about  their  ears  and 
the  growling  of  the  thunder  sending  sullen  echoes  down 
the  lake. 

Dick  had  no  conversation  to  give  Forsyth  as  the  boat 
tacked  ajid  swung  and  drove  on  her  beam  until  the  upper 


178  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

strakes  foamed  with  white  lips.  He  was  planning  what  he 
would  do  with  clear-minded  decision.  He  would  watch 
those  two  at  the  work  which  they  were  doing,  and  if  that 
gave  him  no  hold  he  would  arrest  them  both  on  the  face- 
value  of  that  photograph  which  he  carried.  In  all  prob- 
ability he  could  frighten  the  whole  affair  out  of  Ducane. 
And  if  he  could  not;  if  he  failed,  and  broke  and  spoiled 
it  all,  what  did  that  matter?  There  were  more  things 
spoiled  in  this  world  than  a  man's  work.  But  Ducane 
would  turn  King's  evidence  and  sell  every  soul  of  them  all 
to  ransom  his  coward's  skin.  Concerning  Jennifer's  part 
in  this  his  beliefs  were  unshipped  and  astray,  and  a  heavier 
wrath  held  him  than  the  dark  wild  wrath  of  the  sea.  For 
it  was  the  impotent  anger  of  a  strong  soul  struck  in  the 
dark  and  blindly  struggling  to  hit  back  again.  Since  he 
had  cleared  himself  of  the  old  truths  he  had  forsworn  his 
God  with  light  lips  and  trampled  the  great  threat  of  the 
afterward  under  a  reckless  heel.  Jennifer  had  stripped 
that  sheltering  harness  off  him  and  left  him  naked  to  the 
doctrine  of  Retribution;  not  in  words,  but  in  the  knowl- 
edge that  he  had  lost  the  power  to  do  the  good  thing  so 
far  as  he  could  see  it.  Under  her  pure  eyes  he  had  tried — 
sometimes — to  crawl  up  to  the  good.  And  now  she  had 
taken  that  which  she  gave  and  made  a  hideous  thing  of  it, 
thrusting  his  unbelief  out  into  belief  savage  and  more 
bitter  still.  He  had  banished  the  gods  of  his  youth;  but 
out  of  the  storm  they  mocked  at  him,  gibbering  in  the 
lightning  and  chuckling  in  the  wind. 

From  the  black  cloud-breasts  the  lightning  jetted  in 
great,  ragged  handfuls,  and  once  Forsyth  saw  Dick's  face 
clear  in  the  yellow  gleam  of  it.  He  sucked  in  his  breath 
as  he  looked,  and  for  a  moment  he  forgot  the  lesser  death 
which  reached  long  arms  at  him  over  the  gunwale  and 
whistled  shrill  derision  in  his  ears.  For  the  man  who 
knelt  gripping  the  sheets  and  staring  into  the  night  with 
the  water  streaming  off  him  was  surely  testing  a  greater 
death.  That  face  would  be  merciless  to  the  utter  need  of 
woman  or  man.  And  it  would  be  worse  than  merciless;  it 
would  laugh. 

Out  of  the  south-west  the  storm  smote  fully.  It  struck 
the  little  boat  sheer  on  the  quarter,  heeling-  her  over  until 


"ON    THE    ATHABASKA"  179 

the  cant  jerked  a  curse  of  terror  out  of  Forsyth.  The  wa- 
ter was  running  ankle-deep  along  the  bilge,  and  Honore 
sprang  to  slack  the  sail-ropes.  But  Dick  was  before  him. 

"Let  her  have  it,"  he  shouted,  and  the  words  came  thin 
and  weak  upon  the  gale.  "  She  can  stand  up  to  it.  Let 
her  have  it.  By  -  — ,  we've  got  to  drive  her." 

"  You'll  drive  her  under  in  less'n  no  time/'  yelled  For- 
sytli.  hailing  on  his  knees. 

Dick  gave  no  answer.  He  was  battling  with  Honore  to 
secure  the  foresheets.  From  his  expression  Honore  was 
evidently  objecting.  But  the  words  were  blown  out  of  his 
mouth,  leaving  him  with  distended  cheeks  and  eyes  where 
the  round  white  showed.  The  men  were  flung  this  way 
and  that  as  the  stout  little  boat  fought  for  its  life,  and  the 
high  waves  slapped  over  them  and  through  the  wet  shrill- 
ness of  the  wind  came  the  boom-boom  of  thunder-guns. 
For  three  hours  they  hung  on  the  edge  of  eternity,  stiffened 
and  bruised  and  beaten.  But  the  knots  of  the  black  lake 
flew  by  beneath  the  counter,  and  when  the  saffron  dawn 
caught  the  sky  Honore  cleared  his  eyes. 

"  By  damn,"  he  said.  "  I  t'ink  we  come  tres  queek,  moi. 
I  vas  s'pose  we  be  to  Lobstick  in  four,  seex  heures." 

"  Trappin'  lynx  isn't  a  circumstance  to  boatin'  wi'  you, 
Heriot,"  said  Forsyth,  straightening  his  cramped  limbs 
cautiously  as  the  great  waves  took  the  red  of  the  sun  on 
their  crests  and  sank  under  it.  "  There's  no  waitin'  for 
reinforcements  when  you  go  into  action." 

Dick  said  nothing.     He  was  looking  forward  with  keen 

to  the  moment  when  he  should  get  his  hands  on  Du- 

cane.     And  then  he  would  go  back  and  take  his  reward 

from  Jennifer.    For  he  had  been  a  besotted  fool  last  night. 

Through  the  day  they  ran  on  with  a  strong  clear  wind 
behind  them.  To  the  left  little  islands  gathered,  separated, 
and  slid  by,  rough  with  scrub-pine  and  soft  with  young 
blooming  willows.  The  sky  toned  to  hottest  hazy  blue 
that  stooped  to  meet  a  hazy  sea.  And  nowhere  down  the 
distance  could  the  keen,  searching  eyes  pick  up  the  smoke- 
trail  that  would  be  the  Hudson  Bay  tug  coming  up  from 
Chipewyan.  The  sun  was  yet  high,  though  seven  hours 
had  gone  by  since  noon,  when  the  dinghy  slid  between  Lob- 
stick  Island  and  the  jutting  mainland  and  Dick  went 


180  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

ashore,  seeking  information.  He  found  reindeer  moss  and 
willows  and  pines  bent  with  the  wind.  He  found  a  dead 
beaver,  and  white  ash  where  a  camp  had  been.  Then  he 
came  back. 

"  Best  cache  the  boat  and  stay  ashore/'  he  said.  "  Some- 
one's bound  to  turn  up  before  long." 

Forsyth  looked  round  with  dubious  eyes.  The  very  air 
of  the  place  smelt  of  something  given  over  to  the  grey  gull 
and  the  musk-rat. 

"  What  would  you  suppose  they  want  to  come  here  for  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  How  should  I  know?  Fond  du  Lac  Indians  in  it, 
likely." 

Forsyth  made  doubtful  noises  in  his  throat  and   flung 

himself  down  in  the  soft  warm  moss.     "  I  guess "  he 

began,  and  slept  with  the  words  in  his  mouth  yet. 

Honore  was  already  sleeping,  unrestrained  and  peace- 
ful. But  Dick  had  never  been  more  fully  awake  in  all  his 
life.  He  was  strung  up  to  tension  that  would  give  him  no 
rest  until  this  business  was  put  through,  and  he  smoked 
two  pipes  scarce  knowing  it,  clenched  grimly  in  his 
thoughts.  With  the  third  he  began  to  grow  restless.  For 
in  all  that  wide  far  sweep  of  blue  there  lay  no  smudge  of 
smoke;  in  all  the  green  silence  behind  there  came  no  sound 
of  life;  no  straggling  camp  of  Indians  to  set  their  tepees 
up  and  to  make  their  fires,  even  as  Honore  had  done, 
against  the  mosquito  army.  He  walked  and  watched,  but 
he  did  not  doubt,  and  it  was  Forsyth  who  flung  the  first 
bomb  over  the  supper  at  a  later  hour. 

"Where  did  you  get  your  information?"  he  demanded 
suddenly  of  Dick. 

"  From  a  reliable  source,"  said  Dick  curtly. 

"  You  can  bank  on  that  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

Forsyth  wrinkled  his  eyes  up,  drawing  under  lee  of  the 
smoke. 

"  They  say  you've  never  been  caught,"  he  remarked. 
"  Otherwise  I'd  go  bail  as  this  were  a  put-up  job.  'Taint 
the  first  time  I've  experienced  such  things.  Robison's 
about  up  to  all  the  tricks  there  are." 

"  The  information  did  not  come  through  Robison." 


181 

Dick's  tone  invited  no  more  speculation;  but  when  the 
long,  sunlit  evening  drew  to  ten  o'clock  Forsyth  came  seek- 
ing the  younger  man  where  he  stood  with  feet  lipped  by  the 
lake-waters. 

"  What  are  you  goin  to  do?  "  he  demanded.  "  Don't 
you  reckon  the  fellow  who  told  you  is  liable  to  be  makin' 
a  mistake?  " 

Dick  wet  his  dry  lips. 
"  I  don't  think  so." 

"  I  do.  I  reckon  they've  been  goosing  you,  Heriot. 
They've  likely  gone  across  to  Manawi  or  Claire,  an'  when 
we  git  back  we'll  find  the  whole  thing  put  through  an' 
swallered  an'  Ducane  lickin'  his  lips  like  a  cat  that's  just 
polished  off  the  canary." 

Dick  looked  at  him  with  the  tired  eyes  which  had  lost 
the  power  even  to  smile  at  himself. 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  he  repeated,  and  walked  away. 

But  at  daybreak  he  awoke  the  two  who  slept,  and  sug- 
gested a  return. 

"  You  reckon  you  have  been  tricked  then  ?  "  demanded 
Forsyth,  sitting  up. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick  very  quietly.  "  I  reckon  I  have  been 
tricked." 

Forsyth  followed  down  to  the  boat.  He  was  a  mild  man 
himself,  and  Dick's  face  made  him  uneasy. 

"  My  word,"  he  said.  "  I  wouldn't  like  to  be  the  joker 
who  served  him  that  sauce." 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day  that  a  little 
dinghy  beached  on  the  red  Chipewyan  sands  where  the 
big-shouldered  dogs  and  the  children  seeking  scraps  of 
dried  fish  in  the  heeled-over  boats  gave  welcome. 

Forsyth  limped  more  than  usual  as  they  climbed  the 
slope  to  the  barracks,  but  Dick  burst  in  on  Hinds  before 
the  constable  could  rise  up  from  his  supper  and  stare. 
Dick's  clothes  had  been  wetted  and  dried  on  him  twice; 
his  skin  was  rain  and  wind-beaten  and  lined,  and  the 
beard-growth  was  black  on  his  face.  But  his  manner 
showed  neither  agitation  nor  weakness. 

"  Win  re  is  Ducane?"  he  asked,  and  over  his  shoulder 
Forsyth  gave  a  mild  echo. 

"  Why,  that's   the  devil   of  it,   don't  you  know,"   said 


182  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Hinds.     "  We've    got    Robison,    but    Ducane    has    disap- 
peared." 

The  sudden  exclamation  was  in  Forsyth's  voice.  Dick 
walked  to  a  chair  in  silence;  dropped  down,  and  pulled 
out  a  notebook. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  know/'  he  said. 

Forsyth  looked  at  the  cooling  supper,  sat  down  and 
filled  a  plate.  Hinds  said: 

"  Why,  you  know,  I  couldn't  have  touched  Ducane  in 
any  case.  But  you  told  me  to  watch  out,  so  I  did  the  best 
I  could.  They  must  have  got  off  in  that  storm  sometime; 
but  we  didn't  know  they  hadn't  gone  up  the  Lake  until  the 
tug  came  back  from  Rocky  Island  two  days  ago  with  only 
Robison  and  Mrs.  Ducane  aboard." 

"Mrs.  Ducane?"  said  Forsyth,  glancing  up. 

"  Exactly.  A  hand  on  the  tug  told  me  there'd  been  some 
sort  of  pow-wow  with  Indians  in  Quatre  Fourches  Chan- 
nel, and  it  seems  probable  that  Ducane  slipped  off  there. 
Likely  he  has  got  them  to  take  him  up  it  to  join  the  Peace, 
and  he  means  to  get  out  that  way.  Or  he  could  get  down 
the  Slave  to  the  Arctic." 

"  What  about  Robison  ?  "  interrupted  Dick. 

"  I've  made  sure  of  him"  said  Hinds  in  broad  content. 
"  Arrested  him  on  the  Ogilvie  business,  and  he  didn't  kick 
worth  a  cent.  But  I  can't  get  a  word  about  Ducane  out 
of  him — or  out  of  Mrs.  Ducane  either."  He  paused  a  mo- 
ment. "  Ripping  good  luck  I  nailed  Robison,  wasn't  it?  " 
he  said. 

"  Sure !     It  could  only  have  been  better  if  you  hadn't." 

"  Why "     Hinds   went  red.      "  What  the  deuce  do 

you  mean  ?  "  he  said. 

"  We  won't  get  information  from  Robison  any  more." 
Dick  stood  up.  "  He  can't  save  himself  from  the  gallows 
by  betraying  Ducane,  and  so  he'll  hold  his  tongue  to  spite 
us  all.  Can  I  go  to  your  room  and  clean  up,  Forsyth  ?  " 

"  You  sure  can.    Where  is  Mrs.  Ducane,  Hinds  ?  " 

"  At  Lowndes',  of  course.  I  guess  Robison  was  mean- 
ing to  get  back  south  on  his  own,  but  I  don't  know  what 
she  expected  to  happen  to  her.  A  very  peculiar  business 
altogether." 


"ON    THE   ATHABASKA"  183 

"Why "  began  Forsyth,  and  then,  over  the  broken 

meats  Hinds  told  him  several  things  which  presently  sent 
him  hastily  in  to  Dick. 

"  There's  quite  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  this  goin' 
around,"  he  said. 

"  Ah!  "  Dick  was  shaving  with  stretched  jaws,  and  he 
did  not  appear  interested.  Forsyth  sat  heavily  down  on 
the  cot. 

"  Who's  to  say  those  two  didn't  put  an  end  to  Ducane 
out  there?  Robison  would  likely  make  his  pile  out  of  the 
transactions  they've  been  through  together,  and  Mrs.  D. 
must  have  hated  the  brute.  And — there's  more  than  one 
>hc  had  a  fancy  for  somone  you  know.  I  guess  you 
understand  how  news  travels  on  the  Rivers,  Heriot." 

"Ah!  What  an  innocent  and  friendly  old  world  this  is. 
I  am  going  to  see  Mrs.  Ducane  now,  Forsyth;  and  I  think 
I  can  promise  that  she  will  tell  me  all  I  want  to  know. 
Yes;  I  think  I  can  promise  that." 

"  Did  she  send  you  up  to  Lobstick,  Heriot?  " 

"  No." 

"  I    believe  that's  a  damned  lie,  you  know.     She    did. 
You'd  best  be  careful,  or  you'll  be  in  the  soup  yourself 
ntly.     Can't  you  guess  what  fellows  are  saying  about 
this  business?  " 

Dick  looked  at  him  with  half-shut  eyes  and  a  slow  smile. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  I  can't  guess.  How  could  you  expect 
me  to  ?  " 

All  the  world  swam  in  a  warm  yellow  haze  of  evening 
when  Dick  came  on  to  the  wide  verandah  where  Lowndes 
sat  smoking  with  his  wife  beside  him.  The  children  ran  to 
him,  and  he  lifted  one  wild-haired  little  imp  and  kissed 
her. 

"  Well,  Jack,"  he  said.  Then  he  looked  over  her  head 
and  smiled  at  Mrs.  Lowndes. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  must  be  uncivil  enough  to  say    that    I 
didn't  come  to  call,"  he  said.     "  I  came  to  see  Mrs.  Du- 
.     Would  you  tell  me  where  I  can  find  her?" 

Mrs.  Lowndes  stood  up  nervously.     Her  heart  was  bob- 
'ii  her  throat, 
rtainly.     She  is  in  the  side  room;  fourth  down  the 


184  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

passage.     She — she  has  had  a  trying  time,  Mr.   Heriot. 
I — I  hope  you  will  remember  that." 

"  Most  assuredly,  Mrs.  Lowndes.  And  I  will  only  keep 
her  a  short  while.  No;  please  don't  trouble  to  come  with 
me.  I  can  find  my  way  quite  easily." 

He  walked  down  the  dusky  passage,  and  presently  Mrs. 
Lowndes  heard  a  door  shut  crisply.  She  looked  at  her  hus- 
band with  a  little  shiver. 

"  I'm  afraid  of  that  man,  Gregory,"  she  said.  "  He 
looks  so — so  cruel." 

"  Well,  what  can  you  expect?  You  know  what  people 
are  saying — and  so  does  he,  if  she  doesn't.  If  he's  inno- 
cent he's  got  to  get  all  she  can  tell  out  of  her — and  sharp, 
too.  Emmett  doesn't  care  about  having  a  disappearance  off 
his  tug,  and  he's  lodged  complaints  with  Forsyth  already 
in  order  to  clear  himself.  It's  a  case  of  suspected  murder, 
anyway." 

"  But  why  can't  they  be  content  with  asking  the 
men " 

"  They  have  asked  the  men.  Hinds  has  done  nothing 
else  these  two  days.  And  he  has  had  Jackson  patrolling 
Quatre  Fourches  Channel  for  information,  too.  It's  im- 
possible that  Mrs.  Ducane  can't  know- 


"  If  you  dare  to  believe  she  had  a  hand  in  it- 


"  I  reckon  I  can  believe  anything,"  said  Lowndes  philo- 
sophically. "  Or  nothing.  It's  not  our  business,  Amy.  I 
fancy  Heriot  will  sort  all  he  wants  out  of  this  mess,  any- 
way. He  has  all  his  senses,  that  fellow." 

In  the  side  room  Jennifer  sat  by  the  window  looking  out 
on  the  silver  lake  streaked  with  dark  shadows.  She  had 
the  last  Lowndes  baby  in  her  arms,  and  her  grasp  tight- 
ened round  it  instinctively  when  she  looked  up  and  saw 
Dick  at  the  door.  He  came  to  her  in  silence,  walking 
lightly,  and  his  face  showed  something  of  the  strain  which 
he  had  been  through. 

"  Please  allow  me,"  he  said  quietly,  and  stooped,  draw- 
ing the  sleeping  child  from  her  with  the  manner  of  one 
clearing  decks  before  action.  He  laid  it  in  the  seat  of  a  big 
chair  and  came  back  to  her,  with  a  very  faint  smile  on  his 
lips.  But  it  was  not  the  smile  which  she  had  seen  there 
last. 


"ON    THE   ATHABASKA"  185 

"  I  have  come  to  pay  my  debts,"  he  said  pleasantly,  and 
pulled  a  chair  up,  sitting  opposite  to  her,  and  leaning  for- 
ward. "  You  have  won  quite  a  good  deal  from  me,  Mrs. 
Ducane.  I  suppose  you  understand  that?  " 

She  did  not  lift  her  eyes  from  the  wrist-muscles  of  the 
shut  hand  across  his  knee.  But  she  felt  her  own  hands 
and  feet  getting  cold.  There  was  nothing  familiar  in  this 
man,  and  there  was  nothing  in  her  which  knew  how  to 
answer  him. 

"  Of  course  we  both  know  how  you  managed  it,"  said 
Dick.  "  You  knew  where  I  was  weak,  and  you  took  ad- 
vantage. I  don't  reproach  you,  for  I  know  that  women 
.  like  to  work  that  way.  But  you  will  not  find  me  weak  any 
more,  Mrs.  Ducane." 

Jennifer  did  not  speak.  She  was  trying  to  remember 
the  Dick  she  had  known:  the  courteous,  kindly  friend  who 
had  helped  her  over  so  many  hard  places.  There  was 
nothing  left  but  the  courtesy,  and  that  was  congealed  al- 
most into  threat. 

"  You  know  what  I  came  here  for  ?  "  said  Dick  softly. 
"  I  came  for  you  to  tell  me  what  you  have  done  with  your 
husband." 

"  I  can't,"  she  said  sharply,  and  a  shudder  ran  through 
her. 

"  I  assure  you  that  he  cannot  escape  if  he  is  living. 
You  have  not  the  least  idea  of  our  power  and  organisation. 
He  cannot  get  out  of  Canada  from  here,  and  he  cannot 
stay  in  it  long  without  our  knowledge.  You  can  do  no 
good  by  holding  your  tongue.  But  you  can  do  much 
harm." 

"  To  whom?  " 

"  To  yourself."  He  would  not  add  his  own  name.  "  You 
know  that  people  are  saying  that  he  has  been  made  away 
with?  The  captain  of  the  tug  has  already  lodged  an  accu- 
sation against  you.  It  is  unsupported.  I  believe  it  to  be 
unsupportable.  But  you  can  only  prove  that  by  telling  the 
truth  now." 

There  was  no  mercy  in  his  voice.  She  knew  that  he  was 
in  a  white  heat  of  anger  at  the  check  to  his  plans  and  the 
blow  to  his  pride.  And  she  knew  how  the  knowledge  that 
she  had  taken  advantage  of  his  love  to  make  him  betray 


186  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

his  duty  would  cut  very  deep.  She  had  scarcely  resented 
what  that  duty  was  leading  him  to  do.  Her  own  recogni- 
tion of  the  word  explained  the  matter  for  her,  and  she  did 
not  think  of  the  ways  in  which  he  had  come  by  his  knowl- 
edge. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,"  she  said.     "  I  promised." 
"  You  will  break  that  promise.     I  came  here  to  see  that 
you  do.     Cannot  you  understand  that  it  is  necessary  for 
your  safety  that  you  should  ?  " 

Jennifer  leaned  back  and  her  lips  closed.  Dick  looked 
at  her  with  his  eyes  darkening.  There  might  be  trouble 
for  himself  later,  but  there  was  trouble  for  Jennifer  now. 
She  was  so  little  and  white,  and  his  love  for  her  was  as 
great  as  his  anger  against  her.  It  would  be  greater  in  a 
little  while,  when  he  had  time  to  be  thankful  for  the  inter- 
pretation of  the  Jennifer  of  the  canoe.  But  through  the 
long  hours  in  the  dinghy  his  terror  had  been  lest  Robison 
had  escaped;  lest  Andree  had  sent  him  word  in  some  way. 
Fear  of  that  disgrace  had  half-maddened  him,  and  he 
could  not  easily  forgive  the  cause. 

Then  he  leaned  forward,  keeping  his  eyes  on  her;  and 
he  questioned  her  over  and  over  in  various  ways;  steadily, 
mercilessly.  His  voice  seemed  a  great  hammer  beating 
on  her  brain;  on  her  heart.  A  cry  broke  from  her  at 
last 

"  Don't.     Oh,  don't.     I  can't  bear  it,"  she  cried. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  said  Dick,  and  put  his  hand  on  her 
arm  when  she  would  have  risen. 

"  I  can't 1  can't  tell  you " 

" Where  is  he?" 

"O stop " 

"Where  is  he?" 

Then  the  tears  came,  and  she  flung  herself  sideways, 
hiding  her  face  in  the  arm  of  the  chair.  Dick  sprang  up, 
stooping  over  her. 

"  For  God's  sake  quit  torturing  us  both,"  he  said  thickly. 
"  Don't  you  understand  that  I've  got  to  make  you?  " 

"  You  can't  make  me,"  she  sobbed.  "  You  can't.  You 
can't." 

He  was  coming  to  believe  it.  Such  a  resolute  will  in 
this  small  creature  had  been  beyond  his  understanding. 


"ON    THE   ATHABASKA"  187 

But  he  was  coming  to  believe  it.     Then  he  used   his  last 
weapon. 

"  Laroupe's  scows  are  tracking  up  to  Grey  Wolf  to- 
night. I  am  taking  Robison  on  them.  If  you  won't  speak 
I  must  take  you,  too,  for  Emmett  has  definitely  charged 
you  with  Ducane's  disappearance.  It  will  be  probably  a 
month's  journey  or  even  more.  You  and  I  will  be  the 
only  white  people,  and  our  names  have  been  coupled  to- 
gether too  much  already.  But  I  have  no  choice.  That  is 
for  you.  Will  you  be  good  enough  to  tell  me  what  you 
decide  to  do?  " 

She  lifted  her  head  and  looked  at  him.  The  unconscious 
reproach  in  the  wistful  eyes  and  lips  nearly  shook  his 
control. 

"  I  have  no  choice,  either,"  she  said.  "  You  know  that 
well." 

"  As  you  will."  He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Then  I 
must  ask  you  to  be  ready  in  an  hour.  The  men  prefer  to 
track  at  night  during  the  full  moon." 

He  went  out  and  spoke  a  few  civil  words  to  Mrs. 
Lowndes.  But  she  saw  that  his  face  was  set  and  strange. 
Then  he  took  Lowndes  down  to  the  gate  with  him. 

"  Mrs.  Ducane  won't  speak,"  he  said,  "  and  she  will 
have  to  come  back  on  the  scows  with  me.  Will  you  and 
Mrs.  Lowndes  allow  Jack  to  come  along  too?  It  is  a  long 
journey  for  a  lady  to  take  alone." 

Lowndes  asked  some  questions,  receiving  concise  an- 
swers. Then  he  said: 

"  I'll  speak  to  my  wife,  but  she  won't  make  any  difficulty 
if  we  can  possibly  get  the  kiddie's  kit  together  in  the  time. 
Don't  thank  me.  I  am  glad  to  do  it  for  you  both." 

To  Jennifer  little  seemed  real  through  the  following 
hours.  In  the  house  was  talk  and  hurry  and  the  excited 
voices  of  children.  On  the  tug  which  took  them  to  meet 
the  scows  at  the  mouth  of  the  Athabaska  River  there  was 
the  smell  of  cool  air  on  the  night-breeze;  there  were  many 
dark  slouching  men  moving  in  and  out  of  the  lamp-light, 
and  there  was  Mrs.  Lowndes  close  beside  her  with  Jack 
on  her  knee.  On  the  beach  at  last  was  red  sand  where  a 
mosquito-smudge  flared ;  a  broad,  black  breast  of  forest 
beyond  it,  and,  all  along  the  lip  of  the  water,  the  great 


188  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

forty-foot  scows,  dark  and  heavy,  with  willow  rickers  and 
tarpaulins  rigged  over  the  sterns  of  a  few.  All  was  move- 
ment and  chuckling  laughter  and  sudden  calls  and  shouts 
as  the  trackers  got  themselves  into  the  harness  with  light- 
hearted  horse-play;  and  the  wiry,  springy  strength  of  the 
North  was  in  their  muscles,  even  as  its  keen  power  was  in 
their  eyes.  Lowndes  spoke  at  Jennifer's  side. 

"  This  leading  scow  is  yours,  Mrs.  Ducane.  Heriot 
thought  you'd  like  the  rickers  there  as  it's  such  a  hot  even- 
ing. Yes — say  good-bye  to  her,  mother.  It's  time  they 
were  off.  Let  me  help  you  up  the  plank,  Mrs.  Ducane. 
That's  right.  Drop  over.  Jack,  you  young  sinner.  Wait 
till  I  come  for  you." 

With  Mrs.  Lowndes'  warm  kiss  on  her  lips  Jennifer 
dropped  inside  the  tall  sturgeon-head  which  was  to  be  her 
home  for  so  long,  and  felt  her  feet  on  a  grey  yielding  floor 
of  fur-bales.  The  scow  smelt  and  whispered  of  strange 
things ;  of  loneliness,  and  of  the  cries  of  little  animals  that 
had  died,  and  of  the  men  who  did  these  cruel  things  and 
did  not  care.  Then  Jack  slid  down  beside  her  with  a  crow 
of  delight,  and  immediately  scrambled  up  again  to  shout 
her  good-byes.  Lowndes'  bearded  face  showed  over  the 
edge. 

"  Comfortable  down  there?  "  he  asked  cheerily.  "  That's 
right.  Eusta  will  make  up  your  beds  in  five  minutes. 
Who's  steering  this  scow?  You,  Ooti?  Good.  Take  care 
of  my  kiddie.  Tell  her  keyam  upe  if  she  climbs  around 
too  much." 

The  big  breed  showed  white  teeth  as  he  stepped  on  the 
hinder  decking  and  leaned  to  the  sweep,  tall  and  finely 
poised  as  a  statue.  And  then  the  long  scow  surged  for- 
ward with  a  groan  and  a  spewing-up  of  sand  and  water; 
the  talk  and  laughter  died;  the  group  of  figures  on  the 
strip  of  beach  slid  behind,  and  Jack  began  to  sniff  omi- 
nously. Jennifer  stooped  to  give  comfort.  And  when  she 
looked  again  the  fires  from  a  big  Indian  camp  cast  a  red 
glow  along  the  beach,  and,  black  and  strong  across  the  face 
of  it,  swung  the  trackers;  leaning  deeply  in  the  traces; 
swaying  bodies  and  loose  arms ;  the  nine  keeping  step  as 
one  and  passing  out  of  the  light  to  give  place  to  the  nine 
of  the  scow  behind.  As  she  looked  a  man  raised  the  chant. 


"ON    THE   ATHABASKA"  189 

It  surged  by  her;  surged  back,  and  burst  out  in  a  volley 
from  each  mellow  throat  that  knew  the  voyageur  call  of 
the  other  days. 

"Huh!  Huh!  Huh!  We  come.  We  come.  Huh! 
Huh !  Huh !  We  come !  " 

The  naturally  dauntless  spirit  in  Jennifer  waked.  She 
sat  up.  And  Jack,  squirming  about  her  with  restless  arms 
and  legs,  cuddled  into  her  suddenly. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried.  "  I  guess  we're  going  into  the  fairy- 
tale place  where  the  dreams  belong." 

"  You  darling,"  said  Jennifer,  and  laughed  with  a  de- 
licious feeling  of  excitement.  "  Perhaps  it  will  be  a  fairy- 
tale place,  Jack." 

Then  she  too  passed  on  into  the  dark,  and  from  behind 
she  heard  Dick  call  her  name. 

"  I  am  in  the  next  scow,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  came 
clear  across  the  gap.  "If  you  want  anything  call  me. 
Have  you  all  you  need?  " 

"  Yes,  thank  you,"  called  Jennifer,  with  a  new  resil- 
iency in  her  voice.  And  as  she  said  it  she  realised  that, 
for  the  first  time  in  many  months,  she  had  all  she  needed. 
Freedom  from  the  almost  unsupportable  life  with  Ducane; 
peace,  and  the  soothing  of  nature  in  the  hush  of  the  night; 
the  unjarring  glide  of  the  scow,  the  dear  familiar  stars 
and  the  scent  of  the  wind's  warm  breath.  Above  her  came 
the  low  creak  of  the  decking  where  Ooti  swung  his  weight 
from  one  noiseless  foot  to  the  other,  and  at  her  side  Jack 
snuggled,  close  and  soft.  The  voice  across  the  water  had 
held  the  old  protecting  kindliness  of  other  days,  and  she 
tried  to  cling  to  that,  forgetting  what  had  come  between. 

Day  by  day  the  tread  of  a  host  passed  up  the  long  river 
reaches ;  the  tread  of  the  brown  men  to  whom  the  brown 
earth  was  the  natural  heritage.  Again  they  took  the  trails 
which  their  voyageur  forefathers  opened  in  hours  of  fierce 
adventure  and  grim  horror;  trails  which  shall  be  closed 
for  ever  on  that  labour  when  the  white  men  drive  their 
railroads  down,  far  and  farther,  until  the  engine-roar 
drowns  out  the  beat  of  the  moccasins,  and  big  cities  rise 
where  the  tepees  fall  and  the  men  of  the  outer  ways  go, 
keen-eyed,  keen-eared  and  silent,  before  the  in-wash  of  the 
city  men. 


190  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

But  when  Jennifer  went  up  the  Athabaska  it  was  still 
the  place  where  the  dreams  belong,  and  through  all  the 
after  years  the  stray  tang  of  green  wood  smoke  was  to 
bring  her  a  sharp  thrill  of  longing  for  the  North-West 
rivers  again;  for  the  hot,  dry  smell  of  the  forest,  and  the 
short  barks  from  a  clearing  where  a  red  fox  led  her  young 
to  play  in  the  moonlight;  for  the  flowering  vetches  round 
her  feet  with  the  golden-rod,  and  the  bird-calls  from  hid- 
den singers  as  they  passed,  and  the  great  cranes  that  flew 
against  the  sunset  with  long  legs  rudder-like  behind.  To 
Jack  the  days  were  sunshine  and  gladness  only;  from 
breakfast  in  the  cook-scow,  sitting  with  granite  plate  on 
restless  knees  among  the  boxes  of  tinned  foods,  to  the 
fresh-cut  bed  of  blue- joint  grass  or  spruce  branches  in 
the  white  tent  pitched  on  some  lonely  shore  where  the 
sandpiper  ran  and  the  cliff-swallow  called.  But  for  Jen- 
nifer, because  no  older  palate  can  take  life  without  the 
seasoning,  pain  was  mixed  with  all  the  pleasure. 

And  yet  Dick's  endless  tact  and  thoughtfulness  made 
the  world  very  truly  a  place  of  happy  dreams.  Outwardly 
he  seemed  just  the  friend  of  old,  with  his  flashes  of  cyn- 
icism and  hardness  for  others,  but  never  anything  but  gen- 
tle deference  for  her.  And  yet  the  change  was  acute,  and 
she  knew  it.  For  all  his  quiet  courtesy  and  his  nonsense 
with  Jack  she  knew  well  that  he  was  only  waiting,  tight- 
ening the  bond  between  them  with  skilful,  unerring  per- 
sistence. He  was  only  waiting,  and  by  and  by  she  would 
need  all  her  powers  for  the  battle  that  would  come.  But 
he  made  those  days  so  beautiful  for  her;  days  of  intimate 
friendly  talk,  of  arguments  on  all  things  that  were  and 
were  not;  of  song  and  laughter  and  silent  times  over  the 
camp-fires  when  Jack  had  gone  to  bed. 

And  she  knew  that  he  was  reading  her;  better  than  she 
could  ever  read  him,  and  that  he  was  a  little  amused,  per- 
haps, at  her  scruples  in  small  things,  and  at  the  prayers 
which  she  persuaded  Jack  to  say  each  night,  and  which 
Jack  once,  to  Jennifer's  embarrassment,  decided  to  say  at 
Dick's  knee  before  she  went  to  bed. 

"  Land  of  Liberty ! "  said  Jack,  with  a  shake  of  her 
black  elf-locks,  "Why  not?  I'd  be  much  gooder  if  I  said 
them  by  the  fire  than  if  I  hurried  over  them  in  the 


"ON    THE    ATHABASKA"  191 

tent,  for  I  could  take  my  time  here.  Couldn't  I,  Mr. 
Heriot?  " 

"  Certainly,"  agreed  Dick.  "  Say  all  you  want  to,  Jack. 
Which  knee  is  to  be  the  altar?  " 

It  was  the  first  time  Jennifer  had  heard  that  tone  to 
Jack,  and  she  bit  her  lips  as  Jack  chose  the  knee  with  care 
and  bowed  her  shock  head.  Jack  marshalled  all  her  fam- 
ily with  determination,  even  to  the  guinea-pigs  left  behind. 
Dick  heard  her  ask  a  blessing  for  Jennifer,  and  then  he 
started  at  his  own  name. 

"  And  please  take  care  of  Mr.  Heriot  and  make  him  a 
good  man  amen  good-night  Mr.  Heriot." 

The  quick,  sticky  kiss  on  his  lips  full-stopped  the  words. 
Jack  whirled;  bestowed  a  second  on  Jennifer,  and  tore 
headlong  up  the  beach,  singing  as  she  ran.  Dick  gazed 
after  her  reflectively. 

"  Was  that  her  wording  or  yours  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  hers,  of  course.  You  heard  her  ask  to  be  made  a 
good  girl  herself." 

"  I  did,"  he  turned  to  her  with  amusement.  "  And  I 
heard  her  place  you  in  the  category  with  her  parents  and 
the  guinea-pigs  as  those  who  are  presumably  above  im- 
provement." 

"  I  have  told  her  that  it  is  want  of  respect,"  said  Jen- 
nifer in  distress.  "  But  you  know  Jack." 

"  And  she  evidently  knows  me."  He  laughed  at  her 
troubled  face,  but  the  laugh  hardly  rang  true.  "  Please 
don't  apologise.  I  am  flattered  at  her  interest." 

But  he  sat  silent  for  a  while  after  that,  and  then  she 
heard  him  singing  softly  a  little  French  song  of  Swin- 
burne's which  Jack  had  objected  to  as  "  silly "  earlier  in 
the  evening. 

"  Toi,  mon  ame 

Et  ma  foi, 
Sois  ma  dame 

Et  ma  loi; 
Sois  ma  mie, 
Sois  Marie, 
Sois  ma  vie, 

Toute  a  moi !  " 


192  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

Jennifer  went  away,  leaving  him  singing,  and  Dick 
smiled  more  than  once  before  he  got  up,  seeking  the  tent 
which  he  shared  with  Robison.  The  natural  instincts  of 
the  breeds  took  them  up  to  the  forest  on  the  cliff-top,  where 
each  rolled  in  his  blanket  and  slept  where  he  lay.  But 
Dick  never  let  Robison  out  of  his  sight  for  long,  although 
the  man  had  shown  no  interest  in  anything  since  the  first 
conversation  which  he  had  had  with  Dick  in  the  cell  at 
old  Chipewyan. 

"  Who  told  on  me  ?  "  he  asked  then ;  and  Dick,  watching 
with  interest,  made  answer: 

"  Grange's  Andree." 

He  saw  the  big  breed's  chest  sink  and  his  shoulders  bow 
down  as  though  he  had  been  struck  in  the  wind,  and  he 
knew  that  this  primitive  man  was  torn  in  the  agony  of 
love  and  hate  even  as  he  had  been  himself.  This  inter- 
ested him,  but  it  displeased  him.  Human  nature  had  not 
climbed  so  much  higher  in  the  essentials  after  all.  At 
last  Robison  glanced  up,  and  in  his  face  was  that  curious 
high  look  which  Tempest  had  once  seen  there. 

"If  I  plead  guilty  that  ends  it  up?"  he  said.  "An- 
dree's  out  of  it?  " 

"  It's  ended  anyway.  I  fancy  you're  just  about  all  in, 
my  friend,"  said  Dick.  "  Of  course  it  will  simplify  mat- 
ters if  you  don't  want  to  fight." 

"  I  don't  want  to  fight,"  said  Robison  slowly.  "  I  done 
up  Ogilvie." 

Watching  him  a  faint  gleam  of  suspicion  came  to  Dick. 
Any  man  with  such  good  red  blood  in  him  as  Robison  fights 
by  nature  for  his  life. 

"  Why  ?  "  he  asked  suddenly. 

"  He — he "  The  unready  stammer  quickened  Dick's 

suspicions.  "  He  showed  me  a  picture  you  made  of  me." 

"  Ah !  Don't  you  think  you  punished  the  wrong  man, 
then?  I  might  have  made  some  more." 

"  If  Ducane  ain't  found  his  missus  is  responsible,  ain't 
she?" 

This  let  in  a  flood  of  light  under  which  Dick  staggered. 
Through  that  sketch  he  had  quite  certainly  found  out 
what  Robison  was  like. 

"  How  about  yourself?  "  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  un- 


"ON    THE    ATHABASKA"  193 

moved.  "  Were  you  going  back  to  open  that  cache  you 
made  ?  " 

Hinds  had  found  Ducane's  camera  and  several  bundles 
of  notes  hidden  in  a  bank  by  the  Quatre  Fourches  Channel, 
and  Dick  was  taking  them  up  to  Grey  Wolf  with  him. 
There  may  have  been  other  work  done;  but  this  was  a  piece 
of  sure  proof  which,  nevertheless,  was  valueless  until  he 
and  Tempest  had  gone  through  Ducane's  papers. 

"  I  was  fixed  all  right  if  that  smart  young  constable 
hadn't  been  a  bit  too  smart.  I  don't  mind  him.  But 
you,"  Robison  straightened  up  suddenly.  "  You're  one  o' 
these  damned  lot  what's  always  interferin'  wi*  a  man. 
Tempest  was  after  my  gal,  an'  you  bin  after  me.  I  hate 
the  whole  bunch  o'  you.  But  you're  the  pick  of  'em." 
He  spat  on  the  floor  of  the  cell.  "  That's  what  I  think 
o'  you"  he  said. 

"  You  are  welcome.  Probably  I  should  think  precisely 
the  same  in  your  position,  although  I  might  not  have  the 
grace  to  tell  it.  But  since  you  do  think  that  of  me  you 
must  not  object  if  I  put  you  out  of  action  so  far  as  I 
consider  fit  when  we  go  up  the  Athabaska." 

Robison  made  no  objection.  The  salt  of  life  seemed  to 
have  gone  out  of  him,  and  he  let  Dick  do  as  he  would. 
There  was  no  information  to  be  got  from  him,  and  Dick, 
understanding  this,  began  to  shape  the  plan  by  which  he 
must  help  Jennifer  when  the  time  came.  But  because  this 
plan  was  going  to  require  of  him  something  which  he  did 
not  want  to  give,  his  selfishness  made  him  require  from 
Jennifer  also  something  which  she  did  not  want  to  give. 

Jennifer  knew  that  Dick  would  require  it  of  her  some 
day.  She  guessed  what  his  eyes  could  show  when  the 
cynical  indifference  or  bold  command  went  out  of  them, 
and  she  guessed  what  that  dominant  temper  which  submit- 
ted so  instantly  now  to  her  wishes  would  want  to  do.  But 
she  was  not  afraid.  Through  these  weeks  she  had  gone 
over  and  over  this  awful  and  beautiful  thing  in  her  heart: 
moulding  it  with  prayers;  softening  it  with  tears,  and 
building  up,  word  by  word,  all  that  she  would  say  to  Dick 
when  he  spoke  to  her  at  last.  Ducane  could  have  no  more 
love  of  hers.  She  knew  where  all  that  had  gone,  and  from 
the  first  agonised  moment  of  understanding  she  had  known 


194  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

what  she  must  do  with  it.  Never  once  did  she  think  that 
this  great  love  could  be  less  wonderful,  less  sacred,  less 
beautiful  to  Dick  than  to  herself.  It  was  to  be  a  glorious 
renunciation,  an  ennobling  for  them  both,  and  on  the  last 
night  before  the  scows  drew  in  to  Grey  Wolf  she  sat  alone 
over  the  camp-fire  in  the  hush  that  bore  only  the  wash 
of  the  water  and  the  cry  of  a  far-off  white  owl,  and  thought 
of  it  with  a  tremulous  smile  on  her  mouth. 

Dick's  tread  sounded  up  the  pebbles  of  the  beach.  He 
had  been  bathing,  and  she  saw  the  glow  on  his  skin  as 
he  came  round  the  fire  and  sat  on  the  log  beside  her.  She 
put  her  hand  out  in  sudden  fear. 

"  Not  to-night,"  she  said.     "  Oh,  not  to-night." 

"  I  think  it  has  got  to  be  to-night,  Jennifer,"  he  said. 
"  I  must  speak,  and  you  must  listen." 

She  shut  her  hands  together,  trying  to  marshal  all 
those  arguments  again. 

"  I  want  to  know  if  you  have  any  real  objection  to 
divorce?"  he  said. 

"  N-not  in  the  abstract." 

"  Never  mind  the  abstract."  She  heard  the  amusement 
in  his  voice.  "  I  am  not  making  conversation  just  now. 
I  want  to  know  your  personal  objections  to  it,  For  that 
is  going  to  come,  you  know." 

"  No !     No !     Oh,  never.     There  is  no  reason " 

"  He  has  deserted  you.  And  it  would  be  easy  to  prove 
that  he  has  ill-treated  you.  Very  many  of  the  States 
would  give  a  divorce  for  less.  Morally,  I  do  not  see  any 
necessity  for  these  things.  Marriage  is,  and  always  has 
been,  purely  a  social  matter.  But  on  the  social  side  I 
acknowledge  the  necessity.  I  want  to  make  arrangements 
for  putting  it  in  hand  at  once.  We  cannot  go  on  so  much 
longer,  Jennifer.  Don't  you  know  that  this  month  has 
tried  me  nearly  as  far  as  I  can  stand  ?  " 

There  was  a  depth  and  a  tenderness  in  his  voice  which 
she  did  not  know.  She  shrank  away  from  it,  and  from  his 
eyes. 

"  You  have  been  so  good  to  me.  But  I  must  hurt  you. 
I  must  tell  you — there  is  something  in  life  which  is  better 
than  having  what  we  want.  It  is  giving  what  we  have." 

Her    words    came    in    little    gasping    sentences.     Diet 


"ON    THE    ATHABASKA"  195 

looked  at  the  fire.  It  seemed  as  though  he  had  expected 
something  of  the  sort,  for  the  amusement  was  in  his  eyes 
again. 

"  I — I  wouldn't  divorce  Harry  if  I  could.  He  needs 
my  help.  He  may  come  back  for  it.  And  then  I  must 
give  it.  One  can't  help  love.  But  one  can  help  marriage, 
and  I  had  no  right  to  marry  if  I  didn't  intend  to — to  mean 
it  for  better  or  for  worse.  I  must  keep  my  oath.  I  can't 
break  it  while  he  lives." 

In  the  little  detached  sentences  her  voice  shook  and 
hurried  and  failed.  Still  Dick  did  not  speak.  She  had 
prayed  that  he  would  give  her  the  chance  to  say  what  she 
wanted,  and  he  was  giving  it,  quite  fully.  But  in  some 
strange  way  this  did  not  help  her.  His  silent  personality 
had  its  effect  beyond  her  will.  She  was  realising  vividly 
how  little  she  knew  of  him:  how  much  battle  and  thought 
and  decision  and  temptation  had  gone  to  his  making  apart 
from  anything  which  she  could  guess  at  in  him.  Then  she 
began  again;  dragging  out  those  carefully-planned  sen- 
tences which  were  to  convince  and  comfort  him.  She 
spoke  of  the  glory  of  self-renunciation,  the  help  of  prayer, 
the  sacredness  of  a  love  which  is  strong  enough  to  slough 
off  the  earth-ties.  Still  Dick  watched  the  fire,  saying 
nothing.  But  his  eyes  were  dark  and  brooding.  He  was 
remembering  that  flame  in  Tempest's  eyes  when  he  spoke 
of  his  Norse  legends ;  he  was  noting  the  shake  in  the  earn- 
est, girlish  voice  using  the  simple  sweet  words  which  re- 
flected her  heart.  And  he  was  looking  for  the  first  time 
on  an  innocence  which  barred  the  door  against  wrong 
more  effectually  than  all  knowledge  can  do. 

At  last  she  stopped.  She  had  said  some  of  the  things 
which  she  had  meant  to  say;  said  them  badly,  perhaps, 
but  he  would  understand.  He  must  have  understood,  for 
he  sat  so  still  with  his  lips  shut,  staring  into  the  fire. 
Why  did  he  sit  so  still?  Had  she  hurt  him  too  deeply? 
Had  she  shown  too  high  a  path  for  him  to  tread  at  once? 
Or  had  she  perhaps  said  more  than  was  necessary?  More 
than  was  womanly?  Her  face  flamed  suddenly,  and  her 
pulses  drummed  in  her  ears,  and  her  eyes  went  blind. 
Then  he  spoke.  His  voice  was  very  gentle;  almost  pity- 
ing. 


196  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  You  don't  know  very  much  about  men,  Jennifer,"  he 
said. 

Jennifer  felt  sharply  flung  back  on  herself.  She  had 
expected  anything  but  this. 

"  I — I — perhaps  not,"  she  stammered. 

He  turned  on  the  log  and  took  her  hands. 

"  We  are  not  like  that,  Jennifer,"  he  said.  "  When  we 
want  a  thing  we  go  on  trying  until  we  get  it.  At  least, 
most  of  us  do.  I  do." 

His  voice  was  very  quiet,  very  convincing.  It  made 
Jennifer  feel  more  helpless  than  she  had  done  in  all  her 
life.  He  lifted  her  hands  to  his  lips;  kissed  them,  and  let 
them  go. 

"  I  will  do  you  all  the  reverence  you  deserve,"  he  said. 
"  But  I  will  not  let  you  go  out  of  my  life.  Did  you  really 
ever  think  I  would  ?  " 

"  Oh/'  she  said,  feeling  the  tingling  in  her  hands.  "  That 
is  all  wrong.  We  have  to  sacrifice  something " 

"  I  have  no  objection.  I  am  willing  to  sacrifice  any- 
thing— so  long  as  it  is  not  you — or  myself." 

There  was  more  than  a  suspicion  of  raillery  about  him 
now.  He  was  humourously  humouring  her,  just  as  he  did 
Jack.  She  sprang  up,  struggling  for  her  self-restraint. 
For  her  heart  was  fighting  with  Dick  against  her. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried.  "  We  must  end  this  now — for  alto- 
gether. I  can't.  I  never  can.  I " 

He  was  on  his  feet  beside  her,  and  his  smile  hurt  her. 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  end  it  ?  "  he  asked.  "  You  ? 
I  have  got  to  give  you  pain  yet,  Jennifer,  and  I  have  got 
to  give  myself  much  more.  But  that  will  not  end  it.  And 
when  this  wretched  business  is  over  and  you  see  what  I 
have  done  you,  that  will  not  end  it.  I  know  you  better, 
and  I  know  myself." 

She  felt  his  eyes  on  her,  but  she  could  not  lift  her  own. 

"  Poor  little  girl,"  he  said.  "  Don't  fret  any  more. 
We'll  talk  of  this  again  when  I  come  to  your  own  house." 

He  took  her  cold  hand  gently. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said.  "  The  matter  is  in  my  hands 
more  than  yours.  Don't  grieve  yourself  about  it." 

Then  he  left  her,  and  she  watched  him  go  down  the  white 
path  of  moonlight  to  his  own  tent.  And  she  felt  utterly 


"ON    THE    ATHABASKA"  197 

impotent;  utterly  weak  and  inadequate.  Quietly  and 
courteously  he  had  put  aside  all  her  carefully-prepared  ar- 
guments as  one  puts  away  childish  toys — things  which  the 
man-mind  had  outgrown.  He  was  one  of  those  who  hear 
what  they  themselves  say,  not  what  the  other  person  says. 
But  she  had  not  known  it  until  now,  and  now  it  was  too 
late.  She  shivered  in  the  creeping  shadows  of  that  tree- 
top  army.  Was  his  masculine  mind  as  much  stronger  than 
hers  as  his  masculine  muscles  were  stronger?  Even  the 
difference  between  her  light,  noiseless  step  and  his  swing- 
ing tread  up  the  beach,  crushing  the  pebbles  and  spurning 
them  out  under  his  feet,  frightened  her.  She  began  to 
realise  for  the  first  time  where  she  stood.  She  might 
say  "  I  will  not,"  but  she  had  let  another  factor  into  the 
matter  now.  And  she  knew  too  little  of  it,  of  its  hidden 
forces  and  currents  and  dynamic  powers  to  be  able  to 
guard  against  it.  Besides,  her  heart  was  on  the  side  of 
that  factor,  although  her  soul  was  not. 

A  little  while  longer  she  stood,  listening  to  the  wash  of 
the  river.  Then  slowly,  and  with  wet  eyes,  she  went  up 
to  her  tent. 


"  HERE'S  Tempest  to  see  you,  honey." 

Jennifer  unlocked  the  door  of  Ducane's  study  and  came 
out  reluctantly,  holding  it  shut  behind  her.  Her  face  was 
white  and  her  eyes  startled ;  and  Dick,  standing  out  in  the 
night  behind  Tempest,  knew  why  in  a  swift  flash  of  in- 
tuition, and  cursed  the  five  hours  which  had  passed  since 
Slicker  brought  her  home.  But  here  he  was  the  under- 
officer  only,  locked  silently  back  into  the  law  which  bound 
him,  and  he  saluted  her  and  stood  still  while  Tempest  took 
her  hand. 

"  I  have  come  on  a  disagreeable  errand,"  said  Tempest. 
"  But  I  would  have  had  to  come  earlier  if  court  cases 
hadn't  detained  us.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  it  is  necessary 
for  us  to  take  charge  of  and  look  through  your  husband's 
private  papers,  Mrs.  Ducane." 

"Haven't  I  the  right  to  forbid  this?"  asked  Jennifer, 
and  gripped  the  door-handle  tighter. 

"  I'm  afraid  not.  Under  the  circumstances  I  must  re- 
quest you " 

"Isn't    command   the   better  word?"  retorted  Jennifer. 

From  behind  Tempest  Dick  watched  the  light  in  her 
eyes  and  her  face  with  approval.  He  had  always  known 
that  she  had  plenty  of  courage. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Tempest.  "  But  I  would  like  you  to 
remember  that  I  too  am  the  commanded,  and  not  the  com- 
mander. I  am  sorry  to  say  that  it  is  quite  necessary  that  I 
should  have  access  to  those  papers,  Mrs.  Ducane." 

His  manner  was  courteous  as  usual;  but  it  was  changed. 
He  seemed  to  speak  from  the  lips  only,  with  his  mind 
drawn  back  to  struggle  with  some  dearly-loved  problem 
which  he  could  not  solve.  Already  Jennifer  had  faced 
him  for  a  few  official  minutes  in  the  Grey  Wolf  court-room, 

198 


"YOU    UNDERSTAND"  199 

when  she  had  been  formally  charged  to  appear  at  the 
Edmonton  Sessions  as  soon  as  Forsyth  had  brought  the 
other  witnesses  down  from  Chipewyan  and  formally  freed 
on  bail  provided  by  Leigh  and  Tempest  himself.  He  had 
been  gentle  with  her  then,  as  he  was  gentle  now.  But  the 
old  buoyant  sympathy  and  understanding  were  gone. 

"  I — I  suppose  there  would  be  no  use  in  my  applying 
force  to  prevent  you,"  she  said,  struggling  to  maintain 
an  injured  dignity. 

A  gleam  of  fun  lit  Tempest's  eyes.  She  looked  so  very 
small  and  frail. 

"  I  am  afraid  not.  You  see  I  have  Corporal  Heriot 
here  too." 

Jennifer  reddened.  Then  she' stood  aside  from  the  door 
with  lips  set  and  eyes  defiant,  and  the  two  men  passed  her 
and  went  in.  Where  Ducane's  reading-lamp  burnt  on  his 
desk  a  litter  of  papers  was  scattered.  Drawers  and  boxes 
were  open  on  the  floor ;  ashes  smouldered  in  the  fireplace 
among  broken  plates  from  Ducane's  camera.  Dick  said 
nothing.  He  had  expected  it  from  the  first  sight  of  her, 
but  his  face  was  hard  with  anger.  Even  now  his  work 
came  before  everything;  before  Jennifer  herself.  He 
crossed  to  the  fire  quickly,  kicking  the  ashes  apart,  and 
rescuing  some  half-burnt  sheets.  But  Tempest  turned 
back  to  Jennifer,  and  pity  and  admiration  were  in  his 
voice. 

"  You  brave  little  woman/'  he  said.  "  You  brave  little 
woman." 

Jennifer's  defiance  fled  before  a  rush  of  tears. 

"What's  the  use  of  it?"  she  sobbed.  "What's  the  use 
now !  Oh,  what  will  Harry  say !  What  will  Harry  say !  " 

"  I  know  what  he  ought  to  say."  He  looked  at  Slicker. 
"  Won't  you  take  her  away  and — and — do  what  you  can, 
Slicker?  "  he  said.  "We  can't  help  this,  you  know.  And 
will  you  remember,  Mrs.  Ducane,  that  the  keenest  joys 
and  the  worst  sorrows  are  those  which  never  come.  You 
may  have  no  need  to  dread  anything  at  all." 

"  Come  along,  honey."  Slicker  hugged  her  up  against 
his  arm.  "  Sakes  alive,  if  I'd  known  what  you  were  after 
I'd  have  had  you  out  of  there  pretty  quick.  Left  you  to 
do  his  dirty  work  for  him,  did  he?  On  my  soul,  I " 


200  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

But  Jennifer  would  allow  no  comment  here.  She  fought 
off  her  tears  and  dropped  down  on  the  rug  before  the  fire 
in  her  own  sitting-room. 

"  Put  on  some  more  wood,  Slicker/'  she  said.  "  Pine, 
please;  I  like  the  smell.  Now,  tell  me  what  you  have  all 
been  doing  to  Mr.  Tempest  since  I've  been  away.  He 
looks  as  if  part  of  him  didn't  belong  to  him,  somehow." 

Slicker  followed  her  lead  thankfully.  He,  too,  knew 
Jennifer's  courage. 

"  It  doesn't,"  he  said.  "  It  belongs  to  Grange's  An- 
dree." 

Grange's  Andree  presented  herself  vaguely  to  Jennifer's 
memory  as  a  tall  girl  with  short  black  curls  who  had  car- 
ried the  little  dishes  of  beans  and  corn  on  the  last  occasion 
when  she  had  supped  at  Grange's  hotel. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  she  said.  "  That  girl  is— is 
only " 

"  Exactly,  honey.  Tempest  has  discovered  that  she's 
only  about  all  there  is  to  things.  She  has  done  up  less 
high-flown  sensitive  chaps  than  Tempest,  so  you  can  just 
guess  if  she's  making  hay  of  him.  His  work  is  only  the 
husk  to  him  now.  It  used  to  be  the  core " 

"  How  did  you  know  all  this  ?  " 

"  How  ?  "  Slicker  shrugged  his  shoulders.  His  ideas 
concerning  love  and  human  nature  were  increasing  in  se- 
verity. "  Because  he's  a  fool.  Men  like  Tempest  usually 
love  as  they  work — over-time.  Everybody  knows  it." 

Jennifer  winced.  She  knew  enough  of  Tempest  to 
know  that  something  sacred  was  being  despoiled  here. 
She  forgot  what  was  going  forward  in  the  next  room  and 
turned  her  rage  on  Slicker. 

"  Why  don't  you  try  to  stop  it  ?  "  she  cried.  "  How 
dare  you  let  a  thing  like  that  go  on,  and  you  in  the  middle 
of  it?  You  stupid  boy " 

"  Because  I'm  a  boy  I  can't  stop  it.  You  should  do 
that.  He  might  listen  to  you.  You're  a  woman." 

Jennifer  had  never  felt  the  fact  and  its  disadvantages 
and  joys  more  acutely  than  of  late. 

"And  a  boy — or  man — naturally  expects  the  woman  to 
do  the  unpleasant  thing,"  she  retorted. 

"  It  wouldn't  be  unpleasant  for  you." 


"YOU    UNDERSTAND"  201 

"Are  you  complimenting  me  on  my  tact  or  on  the  lack 
of  it?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  be  a  beast,  Jennifer.  I've  said  all  I  could 
think  of " 

"  I  guessed  you  would !  If  only  you'd  sometimes  try  to 
say  the  things  you  couldn't  think  of  it  would  be  much 
safer.  And  of  course  he- " 

"  Well,  he  did."  Slicker  wriggled.  "  Maybe  you  could 
get  Heriot  to  do  something.  I  won't  ask  him.  He's  such 
a  jeering,  sneering  brute " 

"  And  you'd  sooner  I  was  sneered  at  than  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  come  off  the  roof !  What  a  little  cat  you  are  to- 
night." Slicker  slid  down  beside  her  on  the  rug.  "  See 
here,  honey.  This  is  a  serious  matter.  He's  crazy  for 
her.  Crazy  for  her.  He's  letting  go  of  everything.  We 
men  are  like  that  sometimes,"  said  Slicker  in  the  wisdom 
of  his  twenty-one  years.  "  We  will  drop  through  the  bot- 
tom of  all  things  to  get  what  we  want,  and  we  never  think 
how  we're  going  to  get  out.  Tempest  is  just  beginning  to 
realise  that  he's  dropped  in.  But  I  don't  know  if  he's 
reckoned  up  the  shame  he'll  put  on  himself  and  his  uniform 
before  he  climbs  out — if  he  ever  does." 

"  Mr.  Tempest  will  never  shame  anything  or  anybody 
but  those  who  are  wicked  enough  to  accuse  him  of  doing 
it." 

"  Sakes,"  said  Slicker  admiringly.  "  What  a  refresh- 
ment you  are,  honey.  Why,  you  see,  there  are  plenty  of 
fellows  ready  to  sneer  at  religion  and  law  and  all  the  other 
things  that  Tempest  used  to  stand  for.  Dick  Heriot's 
one.  So  can't  you  realise  what  a  peg  he's  giving  them  to 
hang  their  sneers  on?  Tempest  was — well,  he  was  about 
the  genuine  article.  Now  he's  a  fool.  He  forgets  most 
things,  and  doesn't  bother  about  the  rest.  He  isn't  Tem- 
pest any  more.  It's  the  fault  of  the  life  up  here,  of  course. 
A  man  sees  so  few  possible  women " 

"You  brat!  How  dare  you  attempt  to  judge  men  like 
him  and — and  anyone  else?  You  ought  to  go  east  again 
now  your  lung's  healed.  I  shall  write  to  Uncle  Gerald 
and  tell  him  you  spend  all  your  time  carrying  scandal " 

"  By  Heavens,  Jennifer !  You're  enough  to  make  a 
toad  spit " 


202  THE    LAW-BRIXGERS 

"  Slicker !  "  Then  Jennifer  fell  into  sudden  laughter. 
"  Oh,  what  a  dear  boy  you  are.  It  has  done  me  all  the 
good  in  the  world  to  get  angry  with  you  just  now." 

"  That's  all  very  well.'  Slicker  was  not  appeased. 
"  But  somebody's  got  to  do  something  about  it." 

No  one  was  realising  this  more  keenly  than  Dick  in 
Ducane's  study.  If  Tempest  had  not  been  in  arrears  with 
the  court-case  work,  occasioning  much  delay  and  later  com- 
plications Dick  would  have  been  over  here  earlier.  He 
had  never  suspected  this,  of  course;  but  his  natural  in- 
stincts led  him  to  desire  to  guard  against  all  possibilities. 
Now  Jennifer  had  got  her  work  in  first,  and  the  results 
showed  very  effectively.  For  all  his  anger  and  disgust  and 
keen  disappointment  Dick  laughed  more  than  once  at  the 
holocaust.  Her  accurate  brain  had  grasped  the  salient 
points  so  thoroughly.  There  was  absolutely  nothing  left 
which  gave  a  clue  to  the  real  address  or  composition  of  the 
Canadian  Home-lot  Extension  Company,  although  there 
were  papers  pertaining  to  it  which  were  sufficient  to  show 
Ducane's  connection  with  it,  and  also  a  number  of  notes 
in  cypher  which  might  contain  clues  if  the  key  could  be 
found. 

On  other  matters  there  were  papers  which  verified  the 
scanty  revelations  discovered  already  in  Robison's  shack. 
The  men  had  certainly  been  getting  in  permits  under 
false  names;  they  had  been  buying  land  from  the  breeds 
at  absolutely  cut-prices,  and  they  had  an  infinitely  more 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  values  and  owners  of  land  in 
the  district  than  any  ordinary  inhabitant  could  hope  to 
have.  But  Jennifer  had  taken  the  poker  to  Ducane's 
camera-plates,  and  Tempest  looked  up  over  the  wreck 
in  some  amusement. 

"  She  has  left  a  good  deal  to  the  imagination  only," 
he  remarked.  "  Of  course  one  can  tell  that  these  two  have 
been  playing  a  crook  game  for  years,  and  that  Ducane 
was  evidently  scared  off  the  field  on  the  verge  of  a  com- 
mission which  Robison  stuck  to  and  tried  to  put  through. 
What  scared  him,  I  wonder  ?  " 

Dick  told  of  the  photograph  seen  on  Jennifer's  lap  on 
the  steamer. 

"  He  couldn't  know  that   I'd  recognise  it,  of  course," 


"YOU    UNDERSTAND"  203 

he  said.  "  But  I  suppose  he  wouldn't  take  chances.  He 
never  had  much  fancy  for  that." 

"  Well,"  Tempest  looked  round  the  room.  "  She's  a 
brave  little  woman  and  I  should  fancy  this  would  help  her. 
She  wouldn't  bother  to  destroy  evidence  against  him  if 
she  had  already  destroyed  him — unless  she  was  implicated 
also." 

"  That  is  a  legal  suggestion  only,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  No  one  would  suspect  her  privately. 
Well,  we'd  best  go  back.  You  can  come  over  to-morrow 
and  do  the  rest.  I'll  tell  her  that  we  are  locking  the  room. 
But  we  might  take  the  cyphers,  and — what  else  ?  " 

He  rubbed  his  hand  over  his  forehead  wearily.  The  end 
of  a  long  day  usually  found  him  weary  now.  Dick 
straightened  from  his  stooping  position  and  looked  at  him. 
But  he  was  not  thinking  of  the  question.  He  was  think- 
ing of  the  man.  There  had  always  been  such  buoyant 
courage  in  Tempest.  He  was  one  of  those  finely-tempered 
rapiers  which  will  bend  hilt  to  point  and  swing  back  to 
balance  again  with  such  a  resonant  note  of  strength  and 
verve.  But  the  resilience  seemed  gone  from  the  steel 
now.  Some  unseen  furnace  had  taken  the  nature  out  of 
it  for  the  time  and  whether  it  would  ever  come  back  Dick 
did  not  know  any  more  than  he  could  understand  what 
had  taken  it.  But  he  knew  that  he  must  find  out,  and 
to-night  too.  He  felt  a  sharp  stab  of  pain  in  that  he 
had  forgotten  Tempest  and  all  that  he  meant  to  do  for  him, 
and  he  felt  a  warmer  glow  of  love  than  ever  before  as 
Tempest  turned  away,  forgetting  his  question,  and  began 
to  pack  the  papers  together. 

Those  feelings  held  with  him  through  the  drive  back 
to  Grey  Wolf;  and  when  Tempest  locked  the  papers  in 
the  safe  and  turned  to  put  the  lamp  out  Dick  checked  him. 

"Can  you  give  me  a  minute?"  he  asked.  "I  want  to 
speak  to  you." 

"  Will  to-morrow  do  ?     I  am  very  tired  to-night,  Dick." 

Dick  bit  his  lip.  The  cynicism  in  his  nature  was  wide- 
awake, and  he  doubted  if  he  could  speak  to  Tempest  with- 
out conveying  his  contempt  for  a  man  who  could  let  go 
of  all  the  essentials  for  the  sake  of  love.  And  yet  pity 
was  strong  in  him  too,  and  pride.  He  was  so  proud  of 


204  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

Tempest,  and  it  stung  him  to  the  quick  that  Tempest 
should  be  willing  to  lower  his  standard  of  life  as  he  un- 
questionably was  doing.  Some  unlocated  words  flashed  to 
his  mind  suddenly. 

"  When  the  will  has  forgotten  the  lifelong  aim, 
And  the  mind  can  only  disgrace  its  fame, 
And  a  man  is  uncertain  of  his  own  name    .    .    ." 

The  mercilessness  of  the  thought  jarred  all  the  love  alive 
in  Dick.  Such  things  might  be  for  men  spent  with  toil 
and  years;  but  for  Tempest  in  full  strength  and  vigour 
the  thing  was  brutal,  unreal,  hideous.  And  yet  it  seemed 
very  surely  true.  Tempest  turned  to  the  door. 

"  Put  out  the  light  when  you  go,"  he  said.  And  then 
Dick  went  after  him,  and  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  You  must  tell  me  what's  wrong,  old  man,"  he  said. 
"  Don't  you  owe  me  this?  " 

"  There  is  nothing  wrong."  Tempest  straightened  with 
his  face  hardening. 

"  Are  you  going  to  marry  her,  Neil  ?  " 

He  had  not  used  that  name  in  many  years ;  and  his  voice 
went  tender  with  the  sound  of  it.  But  Tempest  drew 
back;  startled,  and  sternly  indignant. 

"  How  did  you  know  what  no  one  has  been  told  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  No  one  ?  My  dear  fellow,  you  can't  surely  be  as  blind 
as  that?  Don't  you  know  that  there  are  bets  about  it 
from  the  Landing  up  to  Chipewyan,  and  probably  much 
further?  Everyone  knows  it.  We  live  in  the  glare  of 
the  footlights  along  these  rivers,  as  I  have  found  out,  I 
assure  you." 

Tempest  leaned  against  the  door,  and  his  face  was 
drawn  and  horror-struck.  All  the  finer  dreamy  reserve 
of  his  nature  was  shocked;  outraged;  thrown  down  off  its 
balance  for  the  time. 

"  They  are  not  talking  about  her,"  he  said.  "  Not 
about  her  ?  " 

It  seemed  to  Dick  as  though  that  passionate,  vibrating 
voice  would  ward  off  criticism  from  Andree  by  the  mere 
force  of  it.  But  he  had  to  answer. 


"YOU    UNDERSTAND"  305 

"About  you  both.  Do  you  mean  to  marry  her,  Tem- 
pest? " 

"  Marry  her !  God  knows  I'd  have  married  her  long 
ago  if  she  would  have  had  me !  But  she's  so  shy — so  deli- 
cate and  hesitating  and  shy.  I  can  scarcely  get  her  to 
talk  to  me  at  all.  I  feel  such  a  rough,  clumsy  brute  beside 
her." 

He  broke  off,  walking  across  the  room  hastily.  He 
twitched  at  the  blind  as  though  he  had  gone  to  straighten 
it,  and  Dick  watched  him  with  that  dark  contemplation 
shutting  down  over  his  face.  This  was  worse  than  he  had 
expected  it.  Much  worse.  Tempest  was  the  kind  of  man 
who  saw  the  shining  of  high  stars  and  the  blooming  of 
white  flowers  wherever  he  looked.  Grange's  Andree — 
Dick  knew  as  much  as  most  people  did  of  Grange's  Andree. 
He  had  seen  her  playing  cards  in  the  back-parlour;  jealous 
and  grasping  and  ready  to  cheat  with  the  worst  of  them. 
He  had  seen  her  drinking  with  Robison  and  others  in  the 
bar;  setting  her  lips  to  the  glass  where  theirs  had  been. 
He  had  seen  men  pass  her  by  with  a  careless  jest  and  a 
kiss ;  he  had  done  it  many  times  himself,  for  the  firm,  olive 
cheek  was  soft  and  satin-smooth.  He  had  seen — then 
he  looked  again  at  the  still  figure  in  the  window. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  interfere,"  he  said.  "  But  you  can 
hardly  be  giving  full  consideration  to  the  facts  of  the 
case.  Heavens  above.  Don't  you  know  what  we  all  think 
of  her  ?  " 

Tempest  turned  and  his  eyes  showed  fire. 

"  I  know  how  men  like  you  can  misjudge  her.  You 
can't  see  that  she  is  innocent — ignorant ;  just  a  wild  thing 
of  the  woods.  She  doesn't  know  that  she  needs  protection. 
But  I  know,  and  I  can't  rest — I  can't  rest — I  want  to  give 
it  to  her " 

He  stopped  again,  turning  back  to  the  window. 

"  I  could  hate  you  all  for  the  way  you  behave  to  a  child 
like  that,"  he  said. 

Dick  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  saw  too  far  to  be  able 
to  see  as  high  as  Tempest  saw. 

"If  she  objected  to  us  why  doesn't  she  avail  herself 
of  your  offered  protection?"  he  asked  dryly.  "  Can't  you 
answer  that?  Grange's  Andree  wasn't  made  for  the  do- 


206  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

mestic  proprieties,  and  you  would  do  well  to  realise  it 
and  pull  out  of  this  business  at  once." 

"  You  were  perfectly  correct  when  you  said  just  now 
that  you  had  no  right  to  interfere.  We  will  leave  it  at  that, 
please.  Good-night." 

Dick  went  to  bed.  But  before  he  slept  he  came  to  a  de- 
termination. 

"  When  I  get  back  from  Edmonton  I'll  put  an  end  to 
this,"  he  said. 

It  had  seldom  been  Dick's  habit  to  halt  on  the  road  once 
he  had  made  his  mind  up  to  travel  it.  But  an  episode 
two  nights  later  hastened  matters  for  him  irremediably. 
He  came  out  of  the  big  bar-room  at  Grange's,  shutting  the 
inner  door  on  the  smell  of  smoke  and  drink  and  the  talk 
of  a  handful  of  settlers  "  going  in  "  to  the  Grande  Prairie 
district;  stumbled  down  the  back  passage  and  thrust  open 
the  door  of  the  room  which  had  been  Ducane's  private 
sanctum,  and  way  out  into  the  little  alley  behind  the  Eng- 
lish church.  He  had  been  on  canoe-patrol  all  day  and  his 
moccasins  shod  him  with  silence,  so  that  the  two  on  the  far 
side  of  the  room  where  the  pale  light  from  the  window  fell 
did  not  hear  him  or  heed.  But  to  the  man  in  the  dark 
of  the  door  that  poor,  grey  light  gave  a  picture  so  cruelly 
clear  that  it  took  his  breath. 

In  Ducane's  big  padded  chair  sat  Grange's  Andree;  and 
Tempest  was  on  his  knees  at  her  side,  gripping  both  hands 
and  speaking  low  and  thickly.  Tempest's  head  and  shoul- 
ders were  blocked  out  in  a  vague  smudge ;  but  the  light  was 
sharp  across  the  girl's  face,  showing  the  wild,  half-terrified 
irritation  of  a  young  horse  resisting  the  bit  and  yet  lacking 
the  courage  to  break  free.  Tempest  did  not  see.  His 
head  was  bowed  and  he  was  praying  to  Andree  as  a  man 
might  pray  for  his  life.  Dick  closed  the  door  softly  and 
got  himself  out  into  the  dark  narrow  alley  where  the 
wooden  church  wall  rose  against  the  golden  afterglow. 
Crickets  were  chirping  and  crows  were  calling  harshly. 
From  the  hotel  stables  came  the  champ  of  feeding  horses 
and  the  occasional  bang  as  they  kicked  the  wall  in  en- 
deavour to  dislodge  the  flies.  Someone  came  unseen  down 
the  noisy  sidewalk,  whistling  shrilly.  Dick  heard  all  the 
sounds.  But  they  seemed  far  off.  Nothing  was  near  but 


"YOU    UNDERSTAND"  207 

the  ugly  rock  on  which  a  good  man  was  splitting  his  life. 

"  Tempest/'  he  said  in  his  throat.  "  Good  God !  Tem- 
pest!" 

He  tolJ  himself  that  he  had  known  it  before.  But  he 
knew  with  an  artist's  instinct  that  he  had  not  known  until  he 
saw  Andree's  face.  There  was  no  heart  behind  that  face ;  no 
understanding.  Tempest  meant  no  more  to  her  than  Robi- 
son  or  O'Hara  had  done.  Perhaps  not  so  much.  And  she 
meant  to  Tempest — Dick  thrust  himself  through  a  gap  in 
the  rail-fence,  and  felt  the  dried  grass  of  the  churchyard 
beneath  his  feet.  The  door  was  open,  and  the  light  went 
in,  glorious  and  golden,  to  dazzle  on  the  small  brass  cross 
above  the  altar.  Dick  remembered  a  tall  black  cross  stand- 
ing bare  on  a  hill  on  the  trail  to  Lower  Landing.  Russian 
emigrants  had  worshipped  there  before  they  built  a  church 
to  house  their  prayers  in,  but  to  Dick  the  man  whom  these 
two  crosses  represented  meant  nothing,  although  the  man 
who  was  likely  soon  to  be  broken  on  the  cross  of  his  own 
passion  meant  very  much  indeed. 

The  day  was  nearly  done.  The  wind  was  full  of  rich 
scents  from  the  yellow-daisy  blooms  and  clover  and  silver 
reeds  in  the  river;  from  grass  on  the  low  warm  hills  and 
damp  moss  in  the  muskeg,  and  from  thick,  loamy  earth  in 
the  forest.  Clear  notes  of  birds  fluted  across  the  river, 
and  the  sunset  lights  were  flushing  in  warm  opal  on  the 
sky.  As  Dick  reached  the  barrack-gate,  slowly,  and  with 
his  head  low,  he  was  stopped  by  Parrett,  the  Dissenting 
minister. 

Parrett  had  been  in  Grey  Wolf  nearly  a  year,  and  he  had 
learnt  much,  though  not  so  much  as  he  would  have  done  if 
Grey  Wolf  had  had  more  time  to  give  to  his  education. 

"  I  hear  that  Robison  doesn't  go  down  to  Fort  Saskatche- 
wan till  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "  S'pose  I  can  come  right 
in  and  see  him,  Corporal?  " 

Dick  never  considered  his  title  an  insult  on  any  lips  but 
Parrett's. 

"Don't  you  think  you  are  a  trifle  premature?"  he  sug- 
gested. "  The  man  is  not  condemned  yet." 

"  Why — why — it's  not  necessary  to  wait  for  that." 

"  But  I  think  I  would,  really.  Robison  might  feel  it 
rather  a  personal  matter.  And,  in  any  case,  is  it  worth 


208  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

training  your  guns  on  him?  They  will  turn  him  off  in 
Fort  Saskatchewan  where  they  keep  the  whole  plant,  par- 
son and  all." 

Parrett's  outraged  earnestness  found  voluble  expression, 
even  under  those  idle,  amused  eyes.  He  was  breathless 
before  he  ended  heatedly: 

"  And  you  will  receive  your  punishment  for  this — this 
blasphemy,  as  I  told  you  before." 

"  Six  times,"  agreed  Dick.  "  Be  easy.  I  am  receiving 
a  portion  now  in  my  inability  to  fully  appreciate  the  most 
pointed  sermon  I  have  heard  for  many  years.  Robison 
may  prove  a  better  listener.  But  don't  give  him  anything 
harder  than  a  tract.  His  manners  are  often  unexpected. 
And  he  is  a  good  shot." 

He  leaned  over  the  gate  after  Parrett  had  gone,  listen- 
ing to  the  high,  joyous  voices  of  two  little  girls  skipping 
on  the  river-bank,  and  thinking  of  Jennifer.  He  was 
dreading  this  trial  for  her  as  he  had  never  dreaded  any- 
thing for  himself,  but  he  did  not  go  to  see  her  as  the  days 
dragged  by.  Carefully,  with  his  clear  mind  taking  due 
note  of  all  side-issues,  he  was  building  up  his  own  evidence 
on  the  lines  of  assistance  to  Jennifer  at  any  cost.  Robi- 
son was  his  chief  fear.  Nothing  could  touch  the  man  now, 
and  if  he  chose  to  assert  that  he,  with  Jennifer's  con- 
nivance, had  murdered  Ducane,  he  could  leave  these  two 
whom  he  hated  a  heritage  which  would  go  near  to  crushing 
them.  If  it  happened  that  Robison  went  into  the  witness- 
box  before  himself  he  would  know  better  what  to  do.  But 
he  had  to  prepare  for  the  adverse  contingency,  and  he  did 
not  dare  leave  anything  to  chance.  He  knew  now  that 
nothing  would  make  Jennifer  speak,  and  that  fact  caused 
him  a  strange  pride.  She  was  fit  mate  for  the  undeniable 
courage  in  himself,  and  not  for  the  cowardice  of  Du- 
cane. 

Of  course  it  was  possible  that  Forsyth  might  bring  Du- 
cane with  him.  But  Dick  did  not  expect  it.  Without 
doubt  Robison  had  bribed  or  bullied  the  Quatre  Fourches 
Indians  into  silence,  and  Dick  had  sufficient  experience  of 
Indian  witnesses  to  know  what  happened  when  they  did 
not  want  to  speak.  Dick's  daily  work  was  trying  just 
now,  for  the  guarding  of  prisoners  usually  fell  to  his  lot. 


"YOU    UNDERSTAND"  209 

But  the  two  stupid  Germans  and  the  lunatic  who  had  gone 
insane  from  loneliness  did  to  the  last  inch  the  work  de- 
tailed for  them  to  do.  They  whip-sawed  timber  for  a 
shack  to  be  built  on  the  adjoining  lot.  They  cleaned 
stables  and  re-shingled  an  outhouse  and  dug  post-holes 
and  stretched  a  wire-fence  along  them.  There  were  days 
when  the  lunatic  desired  only  to  walk  through  the  head 
of  Dick's  shadow  as  it  moved  over  the  dusty  grass,  and 
Dick  had  to  let  him  do  it;  there  were  days  when  the  bully- 
ing wind  of  the  rain,  or,  worst  of  all,  smoke  from  the  forest- 
fires  which  blanketed  the  hills  above  Grey  Wolf  made  work 
a  torment.  But  time  drew  by  at  last.  Forsyth  came  down 
with  his  witnesses ;  Jennifer  went  to  Edmonton  with  Slicker 
and  Mrs.  Leigh,  and,  by  Tempest's  arrangement,  Andree 
had  gone  with  them.  Dick  did  not  speak  to  Tempest  of 
Andree  now,  though  he  had  been  more  than  uneasy  over  a 
certain  matter  which  occurred  on  the  night  when  Andree 
realised  that  Robison  was  taken  to  Fort  Saskatchewan  for 
a  trial  which  would  mean  death.  Dick  had  gone  through 
the  back-passage  at  Grange's  that  night  and  had  suddenly 
confronted  Moosta.  To  all  appearances  Moosta  had  just 
come  through  a  storm  which  had  fallen  on  her  apart  from 
her  will.  She  clutched  Dick  with  fat,  strong  hands,  and 
all  her  respect  for  him  could  not  straighten  her  English. 

"  Dieu !  She  mak'  hit !  "  she  gasped.  "  Hit  Rosario. 
An'  moi.  An'  she  cry.  An'  cry.  An'  mak'  noise — diable 
noise." 

"  Who  ?  "  demanded  Dick,  halting. 

"  S'pose  it  Andree,"  said  Moosta.  "  She  got  devil,  me 
t'ink." 

Dick  pushed  open  the  door  of  the  back-parlour  and 
walked  in.  He  had  never  been  there  before,  and  its  musti- 
ness  and  smell  of  smoke  and  cooking  and  its  low,  roughly- 
beamed  ceiling  made  all  dark  for  the  moment.  Then 
he  saw  Andree  on  the  floor  behind  Grange's  big  chair, 
with  her  head  wound  in  a  tablecloth  and  wild  turmoil  about 
her.  Dick  pulled  the  cloth  away,  and  stooped  to  her. 
That  always  suspicious  mind  of  his  was  interested. 

"  What's  all  this,  Andree  ? "  he  asked.  "  You  have 
scared  Moosta's  hair  out  of  its  pins." 

Andree's  eyes  met  his;  soft,  wild,  and  anguish-stricken 


210  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

as  the  eyes  of  a  wounded  doe.  Dick  had  never  realised 
her  beauty  so  keenly  before.  He  stooped  lower. 

"  Will — he  be — kill  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  Undoubtedly.  I  think  he  wants  to  be  killed,  Andree. 
Do  you  know  why?  " 

The  tears  darkened  her  eyes.  She  put  up  her  long, 
slender  hands,  framing  Dick's  face  in  them. 

"  What  matter — if  he  want  it  so?  "  she  asked. 

"  What  matter  indeed.  Not  worth  crying  over,  is  it, 
Andree?  But  why  does  he  want  it  so?" 

"  Bien,"  she  said.  "  He  want  to  love  me  too  much.  It 
is  better — quite  better  for  him  an'  Ogilvie.  Cela  est  fort 
bien.  I  do  not  want  them  to  love  me.  Tapwa,  Dick ;  they 
do  deserve  it."  Her  soft  fingers  tapped  gently  against  his 
temples.  "  They  do  deserve  it,"  she  said,  and  there  was 
no  feeling  in  her  voice. 

Dick  drew  his  breath  in,  looking  at  her. 

"  Whether  they  deserve  it  or  not  I  think  most  men  will 
get  it  in  one  way  or  another  if  they  love  you,  Grange's 
Andree,"  he  said.  "  Why  were  you  crying,  then?  " 

"  I — was  frightened,"  she  said.  And  then  she  sprang 
up;  laughing  and  brilliant  again. 

"  I  go  to  put  the  hair  of  Moosta  in  its  pins  some  more," 
she  said.  "  One  pin  will  do — if  so  it  is  in  the  right  place.'^ 

Dick  had  gone  away,  but  he  was  not  satisfied.  If  Robi- 
son  chose  to  die  undefended  that  was  the  man's  own  busi- 
ness. But  the  matter  would  have  been  clearer  if  Robison 
had  made  a  legitimate  fight  for  his  life. 

But  if  Dick  dreaded  those  Edmonton  days  for  Jennifer, 
Tempest  dreaded  still  more  the  knowledge  that  there  they 
would  make  Andree  swear  away  a  man's  life.  He  tortured 
himself  over  the  matter,  bitterly  angry  with  Dick  because 
of  his  share  in  it;  illogical,  anxious,  wearied  out  by  stress 
of  work  and  of  thought.  Everything  which  was  said  and 
done  seemed  to  rasp  and  hurt  the  delicate  edges  of  his 
nature,  and  Dick,  coming  into  the  office  on  the  last  evening 
where  Tempest  was  making  up  his  end  of  the  month  re- 
ports, understood  that  he  would  have  to  take  this  thing  in 
hand  very  shortly,  or  it  would  be  too  late;  if,  indeed,  it 
were  not  too  late  now. 

Tempest  looked  up  and  handed  a  paper  over  the  desk. 


"YOU   UNDERSTAND"  211 

"  I  have  duplicated  this  voucher  three  times,"  he  said. 
"  Can  you  make  the  other  three  to-night?  " 

Dick  was  on  night-watch  from  seven  p.m.  until  midnight. 
He  nodded,  folding  the  sheet  into  his  pocket-book. 

"  If  this  goes  on  we'll  have  to  get  a  hand-press/'  he  said. 
"  There  has  been  a  lunatic  of  sorts  in  cells  ever  since  I 
came,  and  that  means  sixfold  vouchers  each  time." 

"  Oh,  well ;  all  in  the  day's  work,  I  suppose."  Tempest 
pushed  his  hair  back.  "  Is  everything  ready  for  an  early 
start  in  the  morning?  " 

"  I  think  so.  Tempest,  you're  letting  all  this  get  hold 
of  you  too  much,  you  know." 

Tempest  turned  back  to  his  blotting-pad  impatiently. 

"  At  least  you  keep  the  balance  even,"  he  said. 

But  when  Dick  had  gone  out  he  dropped  his  pen  and  sat 
still,  with  a  fear  which  had  lately  come  to  life  dawning  in 
his  eyes.  Dimly  he  was  beginning  to  know  that  he  was 
deceiving  himself;  that  he  was  deliberately  building  up  and 
holding  to  a  thing  which  had  not,  and  never  could  have, 
any  foundation.  He  fought  against  this  knowledge  with 
all  his  powers;  telling  himself  that  it  was  the  right  of 
man  to  seek  a  woman,  to  give  to  her  love  and  protection 
and  help,  to  enable  her  to  fulfil  her  life  gloriously  and 
wisely  and  fully.  This  was  man's  right;  one  of  the  primal 
laws.  Therefore,  if  he  chose  to  give  so  to  Andree  where 
was  the  sin?  A  thousand  times  he  told  himself  that  there 
wa*  no  sin.  The  very  height  and  fineness  of  his  nature 
made  it  possible  for  him  to  deceive  himself.  He  had  given 
his  all  to  the  work.  Now  he  was  giving  his  all  to  the 
woman.  Surely  these  were  the  two  things  which  Nature 
and  God  required  of  him?  But  the  fact  that  he  had  to 
assure  himself  of  this  so  often  suggested  the  flaw  in  it. 
He  knew  well  that  he  was  wrecking  his  powers  and  crip- 
pling his  work ;  he  knew  that  his  unhappiness  was  due  to 
more  than  Andree's  indifference.  And  in  the  centre  of  his 
heart  he  knew  that  the  truth  was  waiting,  if  he  would 
look  at  it.  He  had  lived  too  near  that  truth  all  his  life 
not  to  know  it.  But  he  would  not  look.  He  was  afraid 
of  what  it  might  tell  him ;  and  so  he  lived  with  his  inner 
heart  shut  against  himself,  and  he  suffered  accordingly. 

Dick  could  do  wrong  if  he  wanted  to ;  open-eyed,  and  ixt 


THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

half-derision  at  himself.  Tempest  could  only  do  it  by 
blinding  his  conscience.  Part  of  him  guessed  that  he  was 
doing  this.  Part  of  him  clung  to  that  early  image  of  An- 
dree;  of  the  ideal  woman  and  the  ideal  life;  clung  fiercely, 
with  all  the  steel-spring  tenacity  of  his  nature.  He  could 
not  let  her  go,  and  he  would  not,  until  she  was  taken  ir- 
revocably from  him. 

But  when  the  moment  which  he  had  feared  came,  four 
days  later,  and  he  saw  Andree  walk  into  the  witness-box 
and  take  the  oath,  all  his  strength  went  out  of  him,  and  he 
hid  his  eyes  under  his  hand.  Dick,  sitting  in  the  front  seat 
among  the  witnesses,  watched  with  that  silent  intensity 
which  had  gained  him  his  Indian  name  of  Carcajou.  He 
saw  Robison  in  the  dock  raise  his  head  and  look  once  at 
Andree  with  that  expression  which  Dick  had  seen  in  the 
cell  at  Chipewyan.  There  was  renunciation  in  it;  there 
was  adoration;  self-abnegation.  There  was  something 
which  lifted  him  for  the  instant  to  a  plane  where  Dick  had 
never  trodden  yet.  Then  it  was  gone,  and  the  thick,  heavy 
face  and  brutal  eyes  and  forehead  showed  reddened  and 
swarthy  in  the  airless  heat  of  the  filled  court-room.  Dick's 
suspicions  strengthened.  Could  it  possibly  be  Andree  who 
was  playing  Robison  into  the  hands  of  death?  Was  there 
any  means  by  which  Robison  could  save  himself  if  he 
chose?  Was  Andree  herself  the  sinner,  and  did  Robison 
know  it? 

Dick  would  have  been  glad  to  believe  this  or  anything 
else  which  could  part  her  from  Tempest.  But  he  could  not 
believe  it.  He  could  not  have  done  such  a  thing  himself. 
Had  Jennifer  stood  there,  lying  away  his  liberty  with  the 
half-coquettish  innocence  Andree  used  he  would  have  had 
her  life  for  it  though  he  took  his  own  directly  after.  And 
that  breed,  coarse  and  dark  and  soulless  as  a  lump  of 
moosemeat,  could  assuredly  never  be  so  far  swayed  by  the 
epic  passion  of  love,  no  matter  how  far  the  passions  of 
hate  might  move  him. 

One  by  one  the  questions  went  on,  almost  as  a  matter 
of  form. 

"  You  say  that  you  ran  away  while  the  murder  was 
taking  place.  Were  you  running  into  Grey  Wolf  for 
help?" 


"YOU    UNDERSTAND"  213 

A  flash  of  Andree's  coquetry  had  just  sought  and  found 
the  admiring  eyes  of  a  young  lawyer's  clerk.  She  started; 
half-laughed,  and  hesitated. 

"  I — I  suppose/'  she  said. 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  Corporal  Heriot  when  you  saw 
him?  " 

"  I  do  not  like  him  sufficient,"  said  Andree  sedately, 
with  her  chin  up.  A  laugh  went  round,  and  Andree 
shrilled  to  it.  Dick  saw  the  glow  on  her  face,  and  the 
consciousness  in  her  actions,  and  he  smiled.  It  was  so 
exactly  the  vain,  irresponsible  nature  which  he  had  always 
ascribed  to  her.  Surely  it  would  disgust  Tempest?  But 
Tempest  sat  still  with  his  head  in  his  hand,  and  he  did 
not  move  as  Andree's  simple  evidence  went  through  to  the 
end.  She  did  not  quite  understand  why  they  had  quar- 
relled. It  was  all  si  vite — si  sauvage.  Robison  did  pull 
out  Ogilvie's  knife.  Oui,  she  saw  that.  Oui,  she  saw  him 
strike,  and  then  she  did  run. 

Dick's  evidence  established  a  little  more,  although  it 
was  scarcely  needed;  for  Robison  pleaded  guilty  without 
extenuating  circumstances,  receiving  his  sentence  with 
stolid  indifference.  A  man  behind  Dick  leaned  forward. 

"  That  fellow  has  an  iron  will,"  he  said.  "  Or  is  it 
just  brutal  stupidity?  " 

"  It  is  will,  I  think,"  said  Dick,  and  shuddered  a  little 
to  think  what  that  will  might  do  to  Jennifer  before  long. 
And  then  he  went  out  to  get  through  as  best  he  might  the 
hours  before  he  would  see  Jennifer  in  that  dock. 

Yesterday  Tempest  had  driven  Jennifer  through  the 
town  and  along  the  tall  banks  of  the  Saskatchewan  River, 
assuring  her  that  she  had  nothing  to  fear,  and  that  this 
absurd  charge  must  fall  to  pieces  on  the  least  investigation. 
And  Jennifer  did  not  mean  to  fear.  But  when  she  stood 
with  her  bare  hands  on  the  edge  of  the  dock,  and  saw  the 
white  wigs  bobbing  below  her,  and  the  stand  of  the  jury 
opposite,  and  the  judge  in  his  scarlet  robes,  her  strong 
courage  failed  for  a  moment.  Tempest  and  Dick  and 
Slicker  were  all  there.  But  they  could  not  help.  It  was 
one  of  those  crucial  moments  when  the  soul  must  stand 
alone.  Then,  as  the  oath  was  administered  to  the  first  wit- 
ness, she  straightened  and  stood  still. 


THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

Emmett,  captain  of  the  tug,  was  the  first  witness;  a 
small,  mean-looking  man,  terribly  afraid  of  being  person- 
ally implicated.  He  told  how  he  had  put  Ducane,  Robi- 
son,  and  Jennifer  ashore  at  Quarte  Fourches  Channel,  and 
how  they  had  been  taken  up  the  stream  by  Indians.  In 
about  four  hours  Jennifer  and  Robison  had  come  back,  and 
inquiries  for  Ducane  were  met  with  the  assertion  that  he 
would  return  with  the  Indians.  Emmett  had  thought  no 
more  of  the  matter  until  Constable  Hinds  arrested  Robi- 
son on  the  arrival  of  the  tug  at  Chipewyan  and  asked  con- 
cerning Ducane.  Robison  said  that  Ducane  was  coming 
back  later.  Emmett  could  not  remember  that  Jennifer  had 
said  anything,  either  of  denial  or  assent.  Next  morning 
Hinds  went  across  to  the  Channel.  But  the  Indians  were 
gone,  and  it  was  only  the  cache  in  the  bank  which  gave 
the  first  suggestion  of  foul  play.  Hinds  could  not  follow 
the  Indians  up,  for  there  was  no  one  else  at  the  Post. 

Being  asked  where  the  other  police  were  he  told  how 
Dick  had  taken  Forsyth  to  Lobstick  Island,  and  how  it 
was  rumoured  that  he  had  done  so  because  he  knew  what 
Robison  and  Ducane  intended  to  do.  Cross-examined,  he 
spoke  of  the  well-known  fact  that  Ducane  was  brutal  to 
his  wife  and  that  Dick,  Robison,  and  Slicker  were  almost 
the  only  visitors  to  the  house  across  the  Lake.  Slicker 
was  called  to  corroborate  this,  and  in  the  hands  of  the 
direct  ruddy-faced  counsel  for  the  prosecution  he  was 
forced  to  admit  Dick's  friendship  with  Jennifer,  his  dis- 
like of  Ducane,  and  Ducane's  scarcely-concealed  hatred 
and  fear  of  Dick.  He  admitted  that  Jennifer  felt  her 
position  as  Ducane's  wife  very  keenly,  and  that  once,  in 
a  flash  of  temper,  she  had  said  that  she  hoped  she  would 
never  be  tempted  to  strike  him.  Under  cross-examination 
he  said  that  Jennifer  had  gone  to  Chipewyan  against  her 
wish,  and  at  Ducane's  expressed  command.  Her  counsel 
asked : 

"  He  was  in  the  habit  of  making  her  do  what  she  did 
not  want,  then?" 

"  I  don't  know.  She  seldom  spoke  of  her  own  feelings. 
She  was  very  good  to  him,  and  very  patient  with  him  al- 
ways." 

"Was  she  friendly  with  the  breed,  Robison?" 


"YOU    UNDERSTAND"  215 

"No.  She  couldn't  bear  him.  She  never  spoke  to  him 
if  she  could  help  it." 

"  You  do  not  think  she  would  connive  with  him  against 
her  husband  ?  " 

"  Never.  And  I  know  that  Ducane  is  alive.  Other- 
wise his  wife  would  tell  what  had  happened,"  said  Slicker. 

The  counsel  for  the  prosecution  rose  again. 

"  If  Ducane  has  escaped  is  it  not  almost  certain  that 
he  has  done  it  with  the  joint  aid  of  Mrs.  Ducane  and 
Robison  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know/' 

"  The  three  were  together.  The  remaining  two  must 
know  what  occurred.  Therefore,  Mrs.  Ducane  and  Robi- 
son have  acted  in  conjunction,  whether  the  issue  be  escape 
or  murder." 

Slicker  went  down,  desperate  and  anxious,  to  see  Tem- 
pest grapple  with  the  problem  where  he  had  left  it.  Tem- 
pest was  asked  if  it  would  not  be  to  Robison's  interest  to 
shield  Jennifer  until  he  himself  had  the  chance  to  extract 
from  Ducane's  study  all  such  evidence  as  might  be  damn- 
ing to  his  own  liberty. 

"  Possibly.  That  matter  would  not  affect  him  once  he 
was  caught." 

"  He  is  known  to  hate  the  police.  Might  he  not  keep 
silence  to  baffle  them  ?  " 

"  His  hate  is  focussed  on  Corporal  Heriot.  To  accuse 
him  of  connivance  would,  in  these  circumstances,  be  better 
than  silence." 

"  He  knows  that  connivance  has  already  been  suggested. 
Mrs.  Ducane  and  Corporal  Heriot  were  seen  in  a  canoe  on 
the  Lake  just  before  Heriot  went  up  to  Lobstick  Island." 

"  Corporal  Heriot  has  been  working  up  a  case  of  fraud 
against  Ducane  and  the  breed  Robison  for  some  months. 
He  was  not  likely  to  do  anything  which  would  thwart  his 
plans  there." 

"  Personal  reasons  Have  been  suggested  as  a  reason  for 
that." 

"  I  believe  them  to  be  totally  untrue." 

Cross-examined  he  told  how  Jennifer  had  burnt  the 
evidence  which  might  have  enabled  Dick  to  prove  his  case, 
and  of  Dick's  anger  and  disappointment  on  discovering 


216  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

this.He  spoke  of  Jennifer's  unswerving  loyalty  in  word 
and  deed  to  her  husband,  and  suggested  that  it  had  proved 
itself  by  the  fact  that  she  dared  something  in  destroying 
his  papers  by  his  order. 

"  You  believe  that  it  was  done  at  his  order?  " 

"  Certainly.  When  I  stopped  the  work  half  done,  she 
said,  '  What  is  the  use  of  it  now?  Oh,  what  will  Harry 
say  ?  ' ' 

The  counsel  for  the  prosecution  suggested  that  Jennifer 
was  personally  implicated. 

"  It  is  well  known  that  she  did  not  love  her  husband 
and  that  she  had  reason  to  fear  him.  Even  supposing  that 
he  forced  her  into  helping  him  to  escape,  is  it  likely  that 
she  would  make  away  with  evidence  which,  in  the  event 
of  his  recapture,  would  save  her  from  his  persecutions  ?  " 

"  She  never  forgot  the  duty  she  owed  him  as  her  hus- 
band," said  Tempest. 

A  few  more  leading  questions  were  quietly  parried,  and 
then  Tempest  gave  place  to  Hinds,  who  told  of  the  search 
in  Quatre  Fourches ;  the  finding  of  the  cache  and  the  im- 
possibility of  extracting  information  from  either  Jennifer 
or  Robison.  He  had  not  been  able  to  follow  up  the  In- 
dians; but  Forsyth  had  done  so  later,  and  three  of  them 
were  now  in  court.  They  were  called;  but  either  they 
were  ignorant  of  the  affair  or  Robison's  threats  had  been 
effectual.  They  had  left  the  two  white  men  and  the  white 
woman  on  shore  up  the  Channel,  and,  after  taking  a  few 
photographs,  the  three  had  gone  into  the  woods.  Some 
hours  later  Mrs.  Ducane  had  returned  with  Robison  who 
told  them  that  Ducane  was  following  in  another  canoe. 
They  never  saw  anything  of  that  canoe,  and  on  their  re- 
turn to  their  people  they  neither  heard  nor  saw  anything 
of  a  white  man.  They  did  not  know  any  more. 

Forsyth  was  next  called.  His  evidence  asserted  that 
Dick  had  come  to  Chipewyan  ostensibly  to  arrest  Robison 
for  murder,  but  that  he  had  refused  to  do  so  at  once  on  the 
ground  that  he  wished  to  implicate  Ducane  on  another  mat- 
ter first.  He  could  not  say  that  Dick  had  any  other  motive 
in  leaving  the  man  at  liberty.  He  could  not  say  that  Dick 
had  any  but  the  alleged  reason  for  taking  himself  to  Lob- 
stick  Island.  He  did  not  see  why  the  Indians  should  deny 


"YOU   UNDERSTAND"  217 

the  fact  if  a  white  man  had  passed  up  the  Channel,  and  he 
thought  it  very  possible  that  Ducane  could  have  been  killed 
and  sunk  in  the  Channel  or  buried  in  the  swampy  land 
round  about  without  being  found.  He  acknowledged  that 
he  had  had  men  dragging  the  Channel  ever  since;  but  it 
was  muddy  and  full  of  snags.  Under  cross-examination 
he  had  no  reason  to  say  that  he  suspected  Dick  of  collusion. 
Dick  had  promised  to  get  evidence  from  Mrs.  Ducane,  and 
had  afterwards  refused  to  give  it.  Dick  had  insisted  on 
taking  Mrs.  Ducane  back  with  him  in  order  that  she  might 
supply  information  regarding  the  Company  for  which  Du- 
cane was  supposed  to  be  working.  He  had  not  heard 
that  she  had  given  any. 

His  evidence  closed  the  day's  inquiry;  and  Dick,  who 
had  never  left  the  court,  except  to  snatch  a  hasty  lunch 
while  Jennifer  was  away,  caught  Tempest's  arm  at  the 
door. 

"  I  must  keep  off,"  he  said.  "  But  go  round  to  see  her, 
Tempest.  Tell  her  that  it's  going  all  right.  And  don't 
let  anyone  suggest  Robison  to  her.  Slicker,  I  want  you." 

Slicker  turned  wretched  blue  eyes  on  him. 

"  If  she  is  condemned  it's  my  doing,"  he  said. 

"  Don't  you  flatter  yourself.  Twenty  of  you  couldn't 
condemn  her.  This  is  only  the  beginning  of  the  thing. 
My  dear  fellow,  you  wait  until  we  get  through." 

He  was  kinder  than  Slicker  had  ever  known  him;  and  he 
insisted  on  the  boy  dining  with  him,  and  staying  with  him 
until  Leigh  came  round  and  took  him  for  a  walk.  And 
after  that  Dick  went  through  his  own  evidence  again,  ex- 
amining it  in  the  light  of  to-day's  showing,  and  readjusting 
wherever  it  seemed  necessary.  He  was  too  busy  to  be 
anxious ;  too  grimly  set  on  his  work  to  think  of  Jennifer. 

The  next  morning  dragged  through  with  unimportant 
evidence:  the  breed  who  had  seen  Dick  and  Jennifer  go  out 
in  the  canoe;  Grey  Wolf  residents  who  spoke  of  the  state 
of  affairs  in  Ducane's  house;  those  who  knew  Dick  and 
could  say  little  good  of  him;  those  who  knew  Jennifer 
and  could  say  little  ill.  After  the  lunch-hour  Robison's 
name  was  called,  and  Dick  said  "  Thank  God,"  not  be- 
cause he  believed  in  a  God,  but  because  there  is  no  other 
form  of  relieved  expression.  But  Robison  was  not  avail- 


218  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

able.  There  had  been  delay  in  bringing  him  from  Fort 
Saskatchewan  prison,  and  Dick  was  presently  put  in  the 
witness-box  in  his  stead.  He  felt  a  moment's  tremor  as  he 
took  the  oath.  For  he  meant  to  clear  Jennifer  if  it  were 
possible;  but  he  knew  that  it  would  be  at  heavy  cost  to 
himself.  Tempest,  looking  at  him,  remembered  his  In- 
dian name  of  Carcajou  and  sighed  a  little.  Dick  was  very 
quiet,  and  his  eyes  were  half-closed;  but  Tempest  knew 
how  he  could  flash  out  when  it  came  to  fight.  Some  un- 
important questions  opened  the  way  for  the  leading  one: 

"  Why  did  you  take  Sergeant  Forsyth  up  to  Lobstick  Is- 
land immediately  after  having  been  out  in  the  canoe  with 
Mrs.  Ducane  ?  " 

"  Because  she  told  me  I  would  find  her  husband  and 
Robison  there." 

"  It  is  alleged  that  you  went  for  another  reason." 

"  Well,  as  it  happens,  I  did.  I  made  Sergeant  Forsyth 
sea-sick." 

The  counsel  reddened  as  a  smothered  laugh  ran  through 
the  court. 

"  The  captain  of  the  tug  has  accused  Mrs.  Ducane  of 
sending  you  and  Forsyth  there  to  clear  the  way  for  the 
murder  of  Ducane." 

"  He  would,"  said  Dick  composedly. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  To  accuse  everyone  interested  in  the  surest  way  to 
save  himself  from  suspicion.  But  I  haven't  heard  yet  that 
he  accused  Ducane." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  Ducane  may  have  committed  sui- 
cide?" ' 

"  Certainly  not.     I  do  not  think  that  Ducane  is  dead." 

"  What  reason  do  you  give  for  that  opinion  ?  " 

"  Sergeant  Forsyth  has  had  parties  searching  the  woods 
and  Captain  Emmett  has  had  men  dragging  the  Channel 
almost  ever  since  Ducane  disappeared.  I  cannot  believe 
that  they  would  not  find  him,  supposing  he  was  there — 
if  they  wished  to." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  if  they  wished  to  '?  " 

"  Captain  Emmett  might  not  care  to  acknowledge  pub- 
licly that  through  personal  fear  he  had  subjected  a  woman 
to  a  thing  of  this  sort." 


"YOU    UNDERSTAND"  219 

Away  in  the  back  seat  Grange  was  rubbing  his  hands 
and  grinning. 

"  My,  my,"  he  said.  "  Don't  get  much  change  out  o'  the 
Corp'ral,  does  they?  I  guess  that's  hit  Emmett  where  he 
lives  all  right." 

"  I  do  not  like  to  look  at  Dick,"  said  Andree  under  breath. 
"  He  has  the  eyes — it  is  like  one  animal  caught  in  a  trap." 

"  Why — I  thought  he  was  looking  pretty  gay,  myself." 

"  Ah !  Bete !  "  said  Andree,  and  turned  from  him  with 
a  shrug^ 

The^piestion  Dick  had  prepared  for  came  next. 

"  On  what  terms  were  you  on  with  Mrs.  Ducane  which 
could  make  it  possible  for  you  to  think  she  would  send  you 
to  arrest  her  husband  ?  " 

"  I  got  a  very  great  deal  of  information  concerning  Du- 
cane's  fraudulence  from  his  wife — without  her  knowledge, 
of  course.  I  obtained  it  principally  at  her  own  house 
where  I  visited  very  often." 

"  You  mean  that  you  went  to  a  man's  house  and  ate  his 
bread  and  used  his  friendship  as  a  cloak  to  extract  damn- 
ing information  about  him  from  his  wife?" 

"  Certainly.      I  had  to  have  the  information." 

"  But  you  could  not  have  gained  the  knowledge  that  sent 
you  to  Lobstick  in  this  way?  Please  explain  the  matter 
fully." 

"  It  has  been  said  that  Mrs.  Ducane  and  I  acted  in  collu- 
sion in  the  fact  of  Ducane's  disappearance.  That  is  so  far 
from  being  the  case  that  she  deliberately  gave  me  misin- 
formation in  order  to  prevent  his  capture.  I  was  under 
the  impression  that  she  was  telling  the  truth.  I  knew 
that  she  had  a  great  deal  to  bear  from  Ducane,  and  I  was — 
I  imagined  that  she  had  taken  me  into  her  confidence  for 
the  first  time.  It  was  not  until  I  got  to  Lobstick  Island 
that  I  realised  how  fully  she  had  tricked  me." 

"If  she  had  never  given  you  her  confidence  before,  why 
should  you  have  expected  and  believed  it  on  such  an  impor- 
tant point  then?  Was  it  not  more  likely  that  you  should 
be  suspicious  of  her  desire  to  betray  her  husband?" 

Dick  looked  across  at  Jennifer,  and  he  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  Through  all  our  friendship  Mrs.  Ducane  lias  kept  me 


THE    LAW-B1UXGERS 

at  arm's  length.  She  relented  somewhat  that  night,  and 
— she  allowed  me  to  put  my  own  interpretation  on  what  she 
said.  She  did  it  to  save  her  husband,  as  I  have  since  had 
very  conclusive  reason  to  understand.  For  Mrs.  Ducane 
knows  where  Ducane  is,  and  she  knows  that  it  means  very 
much  to  me  to  find  him.  But  I  can  get  no  information  from 
her  at  all.  She  has  fooled  me,  and  shown  me  where  I 
stand  in  her  estimation." 

His  voice  was  stern,  almost  sad.  But  it  carried  the  ring 
of  truth. 

"  Is  it  not  most  likely  that  she  has  killed  him  or  ffad  him 
killed?  In  that  case  she  would,  of  course,  be  reticent  on 
the  matter." 

"  Robison  would  not  kill  him.  Nor  would  he  shelter 
Mrs.  Ducane  if  she  had  done  it.  Ducane  was  too  useful 
to  Robison.  He  wanted  money  and  power,  and  I  can 
prove  that  Ducane  was  the  channel  through  which  he  was 
getting  them.  He  had  not  sufficient  education  to  get  them 
otherwise,  but  he  had  sufficient  wit  not  to  destroy  the 
source.  In  my  opinion  Ducane  disappeared  because  his 
fear  of  me  was  greater  than  Robison's  power  over  him, 
and  he  made  Mrs.  Ducane  burn  the  implicating  papers  in 
order  that,  when  he  was  found  or  came  back,  he  might 
purchase  immunity  by  betraying  the  company  for  himself." 

"  Is  it  not  possible  that  Mrs.  Ducane  believed  that  she 
was  telling  you  the  truth  when  she  sent  you  to  Lobstick?  " 

"  No.     Her  actions  since  have  convinced  me  of  that." 

"  In  what  way?  " 

Dick  was  fighting  for  Jennifer's  liberty  and  he  did  not 
hesitate. 

"  I  have  several  times  tried  to  persuade  her  to  leave 
Ducane  or  to  divorce  him,  and  she  has  always  repulsed  me. 
Her  mind  is  centred  on  him,  and  she  is  waiting  for  him 
to  come  back.  I  believe  that  he  is  living,  and  I  have  more 
reason  to  wish  to  doubt  that  than  you  can  have." 

Tempest  was  watching  him  with  bitten  lips.  Dick  was 
getting  the  sympathy  for  Jennifer,  certainly.  But  at  what 
a  cost!  It  could  not  be  possible  that  he  was  laying  his 
inmost  heart  bare  here  in  the  court.  He  must  be  lying; 
but  he  surely  felt  the  position  in  which  he  was  putting 
himself.  And  then  Tempest  remembered,  painfully.  This 


"YOU    UNDERSTAND"  221 

Dick  had  no  scruples  of  shame  nor  honour,  and  he  would 
have  no  objections  to  telling  lies,  even  on  oath. 

To  Dick  himself  the  psychology  of  the  matter  was  in- 
teresting. He  was  telling  the  absolute  truth,  which  was 
unusual,  and  it  was  doing  more  good  than  any  carefully- 
shaped  lies  could  have  done.  He  had  turned  Jennifer 
into  the  persecuted  and  blameless  wife,  and  himself  and 
Ducane  into  the  sinners,  and  the  results  of  this  arrange- 
ment would  show  very  soon.  But,  because  the  postulated 
reason  for  Jennifer's  alleged  destruction  of  Ducane  lay  in 
her  relations  with  Dick,  he  was  kept  in  the  witness-box 
for  the  remainder  of  the  afternoon;  and  how  much  he  had 
won  he  did  not  know  until  Robison  should  take  his  place 
there,  and  how  much  harm  he  had  done  himself  with  her 
he  did  not  know  either.  But  no  cross-examining  could  ex- 
tract from  him  more  than  he  wished  to  say,  and  he  gave 
place  to  Robison  at  last  in  the  knowledge  that  Jennifer's 
cause  was  safe  unless  Robison  chose  to  damn  it.  But 
Robison  chose  to  say  nothing.  Called  to  a  higher  tribunal 
he  was  indifferent  to  the  threats  of  an  earthly  one.  He 
would  not  tell  the  truth,  but  he  would  not  lie  either,  and 
Dick  saw  him  go  with  something  nearer  gratitude  to  an 
unknown  God  than  he  had  thought  possible. 

The  long  days  in  the  hot,  close  court-room  made  Jenni- 
fer's little  pale  face  smaller  and  paler  than  ever.  But  her 
courage  had  not  flagged,  and  she  had  not  misunderstood 
Dick's  evidence.  Much  that  he  had  said  seemed  painful 
and  unnecessary  to  her;  but  she  did  not  doubt  his  wisdom 
in  saying  it,  even  when  she  herself  stood  to  be  questioned 
on  what  he  had  said.  There  was  nothing  to  deny  there, 
for  Dick  had  known  better  than  to  lie  with  her  frank  truth 
to  follow  him.  But  his  disclosures  had  turned  the  tide 
of  sympathy  so  powerfully  in  her  favour  that  it  could  not 
be  stopped  now.  Of  Emmett's  trumped-up  charge  there 
was  practically  nothing  left.  Jennifer  had  been  shown  to 
have  thwarted  at  all  points  the  man  with  whom  she  was 
supposed  to  be  in  love,  and  not  the  severest  examination 
could  make  her  story  differ  in  the  essentials  from  Dick's. 
She  gave  her  answers  clearly  and  directly;  but  she  refused 
to  say  more  of  Ducane  but  that  he  was,  to  the  best  of  her 
knowledge,  alive  and  well. 


222  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  Where  would  be  the  use  of  my  helping  him  to  get  away 
if  I  told  of  him  now?  "  she  asked  naively;  and  Dick  saw 
more  than  one  of  the  jury  smile. 

Her  counsel  made  much  of  the  point  that,  Ducane  be- 
ing a  free  agent  at  the  time  of  his  disappearance,  Jennifer 
had  committed  no  crime  in  assisting  him,  nor  in  destroy- 
ing his  papers  at  his  command.  She  denied  most  firmly 
any  knowledge  concerning  Ducane's  connection  with  the 
Canada  Home-lot  Extension  Company.  Ducane  had  told 
her  to  burn  all  the  papers  in  his  escritoire,  and  she  had 
been  doing  it  hastily  when  she  was  interrupted.  Many  of 
them  mentioned  the  Company,  and  she  would  have  no 
objection  to  giving  the  address  if  she  knew  it.  But  she 
did  not  remember  it,  even  if  she  had  read  it.  She  was 
dismissed  at  last  with  a  verdict  of  "  Not  proven,"  and  a 
heavy  fine  for  contempt  of  court;  and  Dick,  who  had 
hoped  for  something  better,  had  venom  on  his  tongue 
when  Tempest  went  to  his  room  before  dinner  that 
night. 

"  I  can't  think  that  Mrs.  Ducane  was  lying,  though  I 
thought  you  were/'  said  Tempest.  "  Did  you  try  to  make 
her  love  you  ?  " 

Dick  was  dressing  after  a  bath.  But  he  stopped  to 
laugh  at  Tempest. 

"  She  isn't  the  first  woman,  and  she  won't  be  the  last," 
he  said.  "  Need  you  look  so  solemn  over  it  ?  " 

"  I  had  not  thought  that  you  were  a  scoundrel,"  said 
Tempest  slowly. 

"  Oh,  well ;  "  Dick  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  That  little 
pour  passer  le  temps  did  her  good  on  the  whole.  And  it 
didn't  hurt  me." 

"  I  wonder  if  anything  can  hurt  you  now." 

"  Not  much,  I  fancy.  Not  this,  anyway.  She  gave  me  a 
run  for  my  money,  though." 

Tempest  went  out  in  disgust,  and  Dick  frowned  as  he 
hooked  his  collar.  He  had  never  loved  Jennifer  better 
than  now,  and  he  had  never  been  so  afraid  of  her.  All 
which  she  had  held  sacred  he  had  dragged  into  the  light, 
making  her  testify  to  it  as  well  as  himself.  She  had  been 
asked  once  if  she  loved  him,  and  Dick's  heart  had  stopped 
with  fear  before  the  question  was  waived.  For  he  knew 


"YOU   UNDERSTAND" 

that  she  would  have  told  the  truth.  But  though  fear  for 
her  was  over  now  there  was  much  bitterness  in  him,  or  he 
would  not  have  answered  Tempest  so.  He  was  coming 
to  believe  that  she  would  be  more  difficult  to  persuade  than 
he  had  even  expected,  and  his  face  was  hard  with  anxiety 
when  he  went  at  last  out  of  the  dimly-lighted  streets  and 
walked  up  to  Jennifer's  hotel. 

Slicker  opened  the  door  of  her  private  sitting-room  when 
he  knocked  on  it.  The  strain  had  told  on  the  boy  severely; 
but  anger  flamed  into  his  face  at  the  sight  of  Dick.  He 
would  have  shut  the  door  if  Dick's  foot  had  not  been  in 
the  way. 

"  Is  she  there — alone  ?  "  said  Dick. 

"  Yes.     But  you're  not  to  see  her,  you  cad." 

Dick's  hand  brushed  Slicker  aside. 

"  Stay  outside,"  he  said  only,  and  went  in,  shutting  the 
door  behind  him. 

Slicker  stood  still  on  the  mat  with  the  colour  dying 
from  his  face.  Boy  though  he  yet  was  in  experience  and 
understanding,  he  felt  those  charged  forces  in  the  man 
with  which  he  dared  not  meddle.  Then  he  went  away,  a 
little  dazed,  and  with  a  curious  feeling  of  awe. 

The  little  hotel  parlour  was  as  unlike  Jennifer's  pretty 
rooms  at  home  as  anything  could  be.  But  Dick  saw  noth- 
ing but  the  white-gowned  girl  in  the  big  chair  by  the  win- 
dow. She  turned  her  head  to  watch  him  cross  the  room; 
but  neither  spoke,  and  she  did  not  lift  the  head  from 
where  the  bare  arm  propped  it  on  the  window-sill.  The 
night  was  very  hot,  and  her  face  had  no  colour  at  all, 
though  there  was  a  faint  smile  on  her  lips  as  she  looked 
at  his  scarlet  uniform  and  at  the  gentle  deference  which 
she  knew  would  not  hold  him  long. 

"  You  were  right  when  you  said  you  would  hurt  me," 
she  said. 

"  And  I  was  right  when  I  said  that  would  not  end  it. 
You  understood,  or  you  would  not  be  speaking  to  me  now." 
He  sat  on  the  window-sill  with  the  dark  of  a  closed  shop 
behind  him.  "  Never  mind  all  that  now,  Jennifer.  It  is 
over.  What  pretty  arms  you  have.  I  never  saw  them 
uncovered  before." 

She  drew  them  back  hurriedly  under  the  falling  laces. 


THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  I  have  not  given  you  the  right  to  call  me  Jennifer," 
she  said. 

"  But  you  will."  He  paused,  then  said  slowly :  "  If  you 
are  too  tired  we  will  leave  the  matter  for  to-night.  But 
you  cannot  imagine  that  I  am  going  to  let  it  rest." 

"  I  am  not  too  tired.  No."  She  shivered  a  little.  "  But 
it  can  only  hurt  us." 

"  I  don't  fancy  your  suggested  remedy  would  ease  that. 
Have  you  found  it  so  simple  to  put  the  thing  out  of 
your  heart?  " 

"  You  know  that  I  have  not.  But  that  doesn't  alter  the 
question.  We  are  not  our  own  masters  here.  This  has 
been  threshed  out  for  us  long  ago — through  suffering — and 
passion — and  bitter  remorse." 

Her  voice  was  low,  and  she  looked  past  him  to  the  sky. 
In  her  loose  white  dress  and  her  aureole  of  bright  hair 
she  seemed  almost  unearthly,  guarded  from  his  dominant 
eagerness  by  a  strange  sacredness  which  daunted  and 
puzzled  him. 

"  I  am  not  asking  you  to  do  wrong,"  he  said.  "  God 
forbid.  But  to  divorce  the  man  who  has  ill-treated  you 
and  whom  you  do  not  love,  and  to  marry  the  man  who 
loves  you  is  common-sense  only.  To  refuse  to  do  it  is  the 
wrong.  Can't  you  see  that?  " 

"  I  made  no  reservations  when  I  married  Harry.  I  can- 
not make  them  now.  I  could  not  live  in  the  same  house 
with  him  again,  I  think.  But  I  must  be  free  to  help  him 
if  ever  he  should  need  help.  This  is  my  duty.  Not  my 
duty  to  myself  only,  nor  to  you,  nor  to  him.  We  can't  get 
away  from  the  fact  that  we  belong  to  the  great  Brotherhood 
of  Life.  Where  you  or  I  fail  or  sin  future  generations 
pay  for  it." 

"  I  don't  understand.  It  is  not  as  if  you  had  chil- 
dren  " 

"  I  didn't  mean  that.  But  it  has  taken  such  centuries 
to  work  out  the  moral  laws,  and  so  we  know  they  must 
be  true.  We  should  hurt  ourselves  and  more  than  our- 
selves if  we  broke  them." 

"  I  cannot  feel  or  believe  that,  Jennifer." 

"  But  I  can  and  do.  And  because  you  know  this  it  is 
for  you  to  help  me,  not  to  hinder.  It  should  be  the  pride 


"YOU    UNDERSTAND"  225 

of  your  manhood  to  make  this  hard  thing  easy  for  us  to 
bear." 

"  I  don't  want  to  make  it  easy.  I  want  to  make  it  im- 
possible. You  are  building  a  fetish  out  of  a  chimera,  Jen- 
nifer. We  owe  nothing  to  the  past,  nor  to  the  future.  We 
owe  all  to  ourselves  only.  And  I  am  not  going  to  spoil 
your  life  and  mine  for  the  sake  of  a  creation  of  the  fancy. 
This  life  is  all  we  have,  and  it  is  madness  not  to  make 
the  most  of  it.  It  is  madness  to  lose  a  day — an  hour " 

He  caught  her  hands,  speaking  thickly,  and  his  face  was 
lit  and  warm  with  eagerness.  She  met  his  eyes  steadily. 

"Does  love  not  mean  respect  with  you?"  she  asked. 

The  phrase  struck  him.  He  remembered  that  German 
boy  at  Grey  Wolf  who  had  desired  to  "  love  all  ladies 
always."  And  he  remembered  his  own  rebuke.  It  was 
her  face  had  brought  it  from  him  then.  It  was  her  face 
brought  its  memory  now.  He  let  her  hands  go  and  stood  up. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  if  I  have  offended  you,"  he  said. 
"  But  all  this  is  only  fencing,  you  know.  You  will  have 
to  see  the  thing  in  a  wider  light.  It  is  impossible  that  you 
should  seriously  think  of  condemning  us  to  such  an  equiv- 
ocal position " 

Through  the  dark  of  the  hot  room  he  walked  back  and 
forth;  he  stood  still;  he  came  back  to  the  window  again: 
arguing  ever  with  patience,  with  passion,  with  flashes  of 
sarcasm  or  tenderness.  His  bitter  humour  got  the  upper 
hand  at  last. 

"  Your  religion  is  accountable  for  this,  of  course.  You 
have  run  after  it  until  it  has  turned  and  rent  you  as  all 
extremes  are  certain  to  do.  But  in  your  natural  pleasure  at 
self-sacrifice  you  appear  to  have  forgotten  me.  I  have  not 
offered  myself  up  for  demolition,  and  I  can't  see  what 
right  you  have  to  hand  it  out  to  me." 

"  It  isn't  religion.     It  is — conscience." 

"  The  same  thing  when  they  become  abnormal." 

"  No.  Conscience  is — it  is  God,  I  suppose.  Religion — 
well,  it  is  tied  on  to  us  with  our  bibs,  and  we  leave  it  there 
because  it  becomes  a  habit.  And  with  lots  of  people  it  is 
nothing  more.  God  is  more  than  that,  you  know.  He  is 
sought  first-hand  by  those  who  won't  take  a  go-between. 
Religion  is  often  just  the  go-between.  And  when  you  sneer 


226  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

at  religion  that  is  the  thing  you  mean.  I  am  afraid  you 
don't  understand  anything  about  the  other — yet." 

"  I  understand  that  you  are  the  sweetest  and  truest  soul 
I  have  ever  known."  He  came  back;  kneeling  a  knee  on 
the  window-sill  and  leaning  to  her.  "  I  will  take  you  for 
my  religion  and  my  conscience  and  my  God  if  you  will. 
But  I  won't  take  any  other.  I  don't  want  any  other.  Why 
should  I?  If  God  made  this  world  then  He  did  not  make 
such  a  pure  and  beautiful  thing  that  I  should  want  to  love 
and  worship  Him  because  of  it." 

"  But  don't  you  see  that  it  is  you  and  unbelievers  like 
you  who  take  the  purity  and  beauty  out  of  it?  And  then 
you  blame  God." 

"  He  should  not  have  allowed  the  devil  to  be  too  strong 
for  us,  then." 

"  It  is  you  who  have  allowed  that " 

"  Please  don't  begin  a  theological  discussion.  I  am  not 
up  in  all  the  cant  phrases — I  beg  your  pardon  again,  but — 
I  wonder  if  you  realise  what  you  are  doing  with  me.  We 
are  not  children,  to  be  frightened  by  the  bugbears  of  devils 
or  gods.  We  are  simply  man  and  woman,  with  our  own 
problems  to  meet  and  our  own  doubts  to  conquer.  It  is 
natural  that  you  should  be  afraid  of  this  step  at  first.  But 
no  religion,  no  philosophy,  no  metaphysics  can  prove  to  us 
that  there  is  a  God  or  another  world  but  this.  Our  nature 
is  our  strongest  and  most  relentless  guide.  Why  shouldn't 
we  follow  it?  For  we  have  no  other." 

"  We  have.  Oh,  we  have."  She  put  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder.  "  You  can't  do  it,  Dick.  If  you  kill  my  belief 
you  kill  me.  It  is  me.  I  could  not  live  without  it — not 
even  with  you." 

"  My  God — if  you'd  only  try  it,"  he  said.  But  before 
her  face  his  eager  eyes  dropped,  and  he  sat  still,  biting 
his  lips  and  frowning  at  the  dark  wall  beyond  the  window. 

Jennifer  twisted  her  hands  together.  She  knew  that  he 
was  recognising  acutely  this  hidden  force  that  was  ranged 
against  him,  and  that  the  whole  of  his  manhood's  assertive 
will  was  in  revolt  at  it. 

"You  are  wilfully  blinding  yourself,"  he  said  at  last. 
"  You  don't  realise  that  religion  is  and  always  has  been 
the  most  selfish  thing  conceivable.  You  are  showing  me 
the  brutality  and  mercilessness  of  religion  now.  You  have 


"YOU   UNDERSTAND"  227 

taught  me  to  hate  it  as  I  never  did  before,  because  it  is 
the  thing  which  separates  us.  You  have  shown  me  the  self- 
centred  satisfaction  of  those  who  worship  it " 

She  put  out  her  hands  with  a  sudden  cry. 

"  Go  !     Oh,  go  !     You  are  hurting  me  too  much !  " 

He  sprang  up  and  stooped  over  her. 

"  I  will  come  back  to  you,"  he  said.  "  I  shall  keep  on 
coming  back  while  I  live,  and  I  will  wear  down  your  resis- 
tance, Jennifer.  I  will  have  you,  if  I  die  for  it — or  if  I 
make  you  die  for  it.  My  work  will  keep  me  in  the  West 
just  now,  and  you  will  be  in  the  East.  But  I  shall  come 
to  you  again.  I  shall  come." 

He  took  her  hands  down  from  before  her  eyes. 

"  Your  little  gods  won't  make  you  happy,"  he  said. 
"  We  are  men  and  women  on  this  old  earth,  Jennifer,  and 
not  fantastic  spiritual  anomalies.  You  want  me,  and  you 
will  never  stop  wanting  me.  You  know  what  I  have  done 
to  yourself  and  Ducane,  and  yet  you  cannot  love  me  the 
less.  You  know  that  I  laugh  at  all  the  tenets  which  you 
believe,  and  yet  you  cannot  love  me  the  less.  This  proves 
that  love  is  not  a  spiritual  thing  and  that  it  is  sheer  imbe- 
cility to  put  it  on  a  spiritual  plane.  You  are  wrecking 
both  our  lives  for  nothing — nothing !  " 

"  It  is  often  the  nothings  of  earth  which  grow  to  the 
everythings  of  Heaven,"  she  said. 

The  white,  brave  sadness  of  her  face  halted  the  impa- 
tient anger  on  his  tongue.  He  lifted  her  hands,  kissed 
them,  and  laid  them  back  on  her  lap. 

"  I  have  lived  enough  to  know  that  we  all  blind  our- 
selves, and  that  no  man  has  the  right  to  judge  his  fellow," 
he  said.  "  You  believe  that  you  are  right,  you  poor  little 
girl,  and  you  are  going  to  make  us  both  suffer  for  your 
belief.  I  believe  that  you  are  wrong,  and  I'll  convince 
you  of  it  yet.  A  man  takes  his  stand  on  reason  and  a 
woman  on  sentiment.  If  I  give  way  on  some  points  you 
must  do  the  same.  And  I  will  not  say  good-bye  to  you, 
for  I  mean  to  come  back." 

She  watched  him  cross  to  the  door  and  turn  to  look  at 
her.  And  she  raised  herself  in  the  big  chair. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said.  But  he  shook  his  head  with  a 
sudden,  half-whimsical  smile,  and  shut  the  door  behind 
him. 


CHAPTER   X 

"  THE    FORCE     ISN'T    A    NURSERY  " 

THE  mystery  of  the  people  of  the  world;  the  strangeness 
of  the  many  lives  about  him  had  always  consoled  Dick  in 
other  days  for  the  troubles  that  fell  on  him.  It  was  his 
nature  to  keep  himself  busy,  bodily  and  mentally;  and 
when  he  came  back  to  the  old  daily  routine  at  Grey  Wolf 
and  passed  the  empty  house  across  the  Lake  in  his  patrols 
he  found  the  value  of  the  work-habit  which  he  had  taught 
himself.  Work  was  the  only  leash  which  could  hold  his 
temper  just  now,  and  he  needed  all  that  life  could  give 
him.  Day  and  night  the  district  saw  him  prowling  through 
it;  stalking  faint  trails  of  wrong-doers,  examining  into  the 
state  of  roads  and  crops  and  bridges,  hearing  petty  details 
of  complaint  and  squabble  in  that  alert  silence  which  prom- 
ised swift  redress,  and  exercising  prisoners  with  a  bland 
mercilessness  which  made  men  fear  to  come  under  the 
harrow  of  his  power. 

Tempest  went  his  own  way  these  days.  Since  Dick's 
rebuke  to  him  the  old  friendship  seemed  to  have  slid  off 
the  two,  and  each  man  walked  his  daily  round,  king  in  his 
own  right  of  jurisdiction,  and  neither  giving  nor  asking 
sympathy  or  understanding.  Trouble  dulled  Tempest's 
energies;' it  quickened  Dick's.  And  no  love  of  woman  nor 
of  himself  could  blurr  the  sharp  edge  of  his  calculating 
mind.  Before  he  went  to  Edmonton  he  had  discovered  that 
flattery,  gross,  daring  flattery  was  the  simplest  way  in 
which  to  manage  Grange's  Andree.  To  the  heat  of  it  she 
would  open  the  doors  of  her  heart  while  Tempest's  gentle 
and  reverent  prayers  only  irritated  or  amused  her. 

Dick's  clear  mind  had  grasped  this  salient  fact  fully, 
and  with  Jennifer's  face  sweet  and  grave-eyed  in  his  mind, 
he  began  to  make  private  sketches  and  bold  outlines  of 
Andree;  planning  his  attack  with  restless  eagerness,  and 
bringing  at  last  to  Moosta  a  strongly-finished  girl-head 

228 


"THE    FORCE    ISN'T    A   NURSERY'      229 

that   was    Grange's   Andree   glowing   in   her   young   wild 
beauty. 

Moosta  was  in  the  back  passage  with  her  arms  full  of 
babies  when  Dick  presented  it  to  her;  holding  it  away  from 
chubby  fingers  and  reaching  mouths  and  finally  taking  it 
into  the  back  parlour  and  pinning  it  on  the  wall  between 
a  garish  oleograph  of  the  Madonna  and  a  little  guttering 
lamp  on  the  bracket  below.  Moosta  demurred,  being  a 
devout  Roman  Catholic  just  now,  with  five  children  going 
to  the  Mission  School.  But  Dick  went  away  and  left  it 
there,  smiling  in  its  rounded  contours  and  deep  warm 
colours  below  the  stiff,  flat-faced  Madonna. 

Andree  snatched  the  lamp  up  when  she  saw  it,  and  looked 
at  it  long  and  very  close.  Then  she  whipped  round  on 
Moosta  with  parted  lips  that  drew  quick  breaths,  and 
eyes  that  made  the  lamplight  pale. 

"  Dieu !  "  she  cried.     "  That — that  not  me!  " 

Moosta  looked  up  with  her  mouth  full  of  silk  threads. 
She  was  embroidering  a  mooseskin  moccasin- front  with 
exquisite  neatness. 

"Tanse?"  she  said.  "Aha.  C'est  vous."  And 
then  she  dropped  her  work.  "  Eh !  "  she  cried.  "  He  is 
ver'  bon,  cet  pickshure,  mais  vous  etes  mechatwow  plus 
bonne." 

Andree's  colour  ran  up  the  smooth,  glowing  skin  to  the 
dark  curls  that  made  blue  shadows  about  her  temples.  She 
turned  to  the  painting  again. 

"  He  do  that !  "  she  said,  quick  and  low.  "  Ah — c'est 
vrai.  He  made  me  like  so !  " 

She  had  often  seen  herself  as  the  distoted  common  mir- 
rors of  the  houses  she  knew  showed  her  to  her  own  girl's 
eyes.  She  had  not  before  seen  herself  as  a  man  saw  her, 
and  that  man  the  man  of  all  others  who  had  piqued  her 
by  his  careless  indifference,  and  roused  her  hate  by  his 
strength,  and  her  interest  by  the  stories  men  told  of  him. 
This  was  a  triumph,  a  dizzy  burning  triumph ;  an  unbeliev- 
able surprise.  She  pulled  the  painting  down;  breathing 
into  it;  sending  the  light  of  her  eyes  to  meet  those  painted 
ones;  the  laugh  on  her  lips  to  those  red  lips  curved  by  a 
cunning  hand.  For  the  first  time  in  the  bald,  raw  life  she 
had  lived  she  saw  absolute  human  beauty;  vital,  wonder- 


230  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

ful,  elusive.  And  that  beauty  was  her  own.  She  flung  the 
sketch  aside  and  hurled  herself  on  her  knees  before  Moosta. 

"Look!"  she  cried.  "Look  on  me.  Omisse — with  the 
straight  eyes.  Am  I  so?  Ah — est-il  that  je  suis  is  belle? 
Moosta!  Dites-moi!  Vouis  etes  tapwa  mynatun;  mais 
moi— I  am  so!  Ah!  Tell  me!" 

She  shook  the  placid  fat  Moosta  until  the  silk  threads 
were  half-swallowed,  and  Moosta  gasped: 

"  Wah !  Wah !  Andree !  Feenish !  Vous  mak'  keep. 
Eh?  Aha;  him  say  vous  mooch  plus  preety." 

"  Nemoweya !  Ah,  say  that  again,  Moosta,  and  I'll  love 
you  kakeka  mena  kakeka." 

"  Vhy  you  s'prise  ?  "  Moosta  rubbed  her  wide,  flat  nose. 
"Wee  all  mak'  see  vous  laike  dat — tous  les  jours." 

Andree  sprang  up ;  swaying,  glowing,  glorious.  She  was 
drunk  with  joy  in  her  own  beauty. 

"  I  did  not  know.  I '  She  stopped  suddenly  with 

her  deep  eyes  turned  sideways  like  a  listening  animal  and 
her  breast  heaving  quickly.  Grange  was  speaking  in  the 
passage,  and  both  women  knew  the  voice  with  a  laugh  in 
it  which  answered. 

"  Ah !  "  Andree  whipped  the  moccasin  from  Moosta's 
astonished  hands,  and  sat  herself  down  to  work  demurely. 

"  Dans  les  prisons  des  Nantes, 
Dans  les  prisons  des  Nantes    .    .    ." 

she  sang,  sweet  and  low,  setting  careful  scarlet  stitches 
into  a  growing  bud  on  the  deer-skin. 

Grange  giggled  as  he  pushed  the  door  wide. 

"  Here's  the  Corp'ril  came  along  fur  a  game  o'  cards," 
he  said.  "  You  take  a  hand,  Andree  ?  You  sure  will  ?  " 

Andree  broke  her  song  one  half-moment,  but  she  did  not 
raise  her  eyes. 

"  Too  busy,"  she  said  sedately. 

"But "  began  Moosta,  finding  her  voice  in  her  dis- 
may, and  then  Andree's  voice  carolled  out,  high  and  clear: 

"  Lui  y  a-t-n  prisonnier,  gai, 
Faluron,   falurette,   faluron,   falurette." 

Dick's  voice  came  in  with  hers  on  the  last  line: 
"  Faluron,  falurette,  donde." 


He  crossed  the  room,  noting  the  painting  on  the  table 
and  the  colour  that  climbed  to  Andree's  hair. 

"  That's  pretty,"  he  said,  indicating  the  bud  under  the 
slim  brown  fingers.  "  He'll  be  a  lucky  man  who  gets 
those,  Andree." 

Moosta's  English  always  failed  her  before  these  men  of 
the  red  coats  and  the  direct  eyes.  She  plunged  at  inco- 
herent explanation;  ended  in  a  squeak  of  Cree  despair,  and 
then  obeyed  Grange's  order  to  bring  glasses  and  a  bottle. 
Grange  was  proud  through  every  honest  inch  of  him  at 
Dick's  presence  for  the  first  time  in  the  back-parlour,  and 
he  was  content  to  smoke  in  silence,  until  his  guest  chose 
to  remember  him  again. 

"  Won't  you  tell  me  who  they're  for,  Andree  ? "  said 
Dick. 

Andree  looked  up;  saw  his  eyes;  saw  the  painting  on 
the  table,  and  flung  restraint  off  in  a  breath. 

"Ah!"  she  cried.     "Say  it!     Is  that  like— me?" 

"  No.  You  are  lovelier  than  that,  Andree.  Much  love- 
lier." 

"  So-o "  It  was  long-drawn  wonder  and  delight. 

She  looked  at  him.  "  When  men  did  call  me  pretty  I  did 
not  know  it  was  all  that  pretty,"  she  said. 

Dick  bit  the  smile  off  on  his  lips. 

"  That  is  why  you  can  hurt  us  all  so  much,  Andree,"  he 
said. 

"  So-o,"  she  said  again,  and  her  hands  fell  idle  on  her 
lap  and  her  big  eyes  burned  as  she  stared  across  the  room. 

Dick  looked  at  her  with  amused  comprehension,  seeing 
the  vanity  which  swayed  her.  And  at  that  moment  there 
was  nothing  else  in  Grange's  Andree.  He  took  up  the  moc- 
casin, touching  her  warm  hands  as  he  did  it. 

"  If  I  paint  more  pictures  of  you  may  I  have  these?" 
he  said.  "  I  think  I  don't  want  you  to  make  them  for 
another  fellow." 

The  scarlet  blazed  in  her  olive  skin  again. 

"  You  paint  me  over — some  more  ?     In  my  new  dress  ?  " 

"Perhaps.     You  finish  those  moccasins  for  me?" 

Possibly  Andree  had  forgotten  that  the  moccasins  were 
Moosta's.  Possibly  it  would  not  have  affected  her  if  she 
had  remembered.  A  smile  curved  her  lips. 


THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  Perhaps  I  say  nemoweya,  but  not  nemoweya  nia/'  she 
said. 

Dick  knew  well  the  distinction  between  those  two 
"  Noes." 

"  But  you  will  leave  out  even  the  nemoweya  next  time, 
won't  you,  Andree  ?  "  he  asked,  and  smiled  as  she  sprang 
up  to  get  the  cards  in  sudden  confusion. 

His  eyes  followed  her  through  the  little  dark  room.  She 
really  was  a  beauty;  so  amazingly  full  of  colour  and 
movement.  He  had  enjoyed  painting  that  little  picture  of 
her  from  memory.  He  would  enjoy  much  more  painting 
from  the  model.  There  certainly  was  some  excuse  for 
Tempest.  Then  he  put  Tempest  out  of  his  mind.  It  was 
hardly  the  time  to  find  excuses  for  Tempest  on  this  point. 

For  ten  days  Andree  worked  on  the  moccasins,  silencing 
Moosta's  mild  objections  by  promises  that  she  would  buy 
her  more  silk — blue  and  purple  and  magenta  silks,  and 
lots  of  little  white  beads  to  go  round  the  edge  of  every- 
thing, some  day.  Then,  one  afternoon,  she  carried  them 
up  to  the  low  hill  behind  Grey  Wolf  when  she  went  to  pick 
lowbush  cranberries,  and  put  the  last  stitches  in  them  with 
her  dreaming  eyes  glancing  down,  now  and  again,  on  the 
ugly  little  dull  village  below. 

She  was  more  excited  about  that  picture  than  she  had 
ever  been  in  her  life.  Like  a  second  Narcissus  she  loved 
her  own  beauty  better  than  she  loved  anyone  else,  and  the 
thought  that  Dick  might  make  some  more  of  those  delight- 
ful colours  and  curves  which  were  herself  intoxicated  her. 
She  filled  her  bowl,  and  then  she  stitched  the  long  tie- 
thongs  into  place,  and  scraps  of  French  songs  came  and 
went  on  her  lips.  She  was  utterly  happy ;  forgetful  of  all 
but  the  delicious,  excited  feeling  that  held  her,  -and  the 
day  had  life  enough  to  fit  her  mood.  Swallows  were  mak- 
ing steely-blue  flashes  across  the  warm,  golden  light  where 
they  chased  the  glancing  moths.  Butterflies  trembled  in 
the  tall  grass-stalks  where  the  wind  went  dreamily,  and 
in  the  scattered  balsams  vireo  and  fly-catcher  were  dip- 
ping and  calling. 

Dick  came  over  the  crest  of  the  hill,  whistling.  He 
came  near ;  stopped,  and  looked  down.  In  her  yellow  gown 
and  the  yellow  light,  with  the  soft  wind  in  her  short  curls 


"THE    FORCE    ISN'T   A   NURSERY'      233 

and  shadow  and  sun  across  her  face,  Grange's  Andree  was 
something  to  stir  the  most  phlegmatic  blood.  And  Dick 
had  never  been  phlegmatic.  Andree  held  out  the  moccasins. 

"I  did  make  fccnish — pour  vous,"  she  said;  and  a  sud- 
den impulse  brought  Dick  down  beside  her  to  push  away 
the  curls  that  made  blue  veins  on  her  temples  and  hid  the 
dimple  in  her  cheek. 

It  was  a  full  half-hour  before  he  rose  and  went  down 
the  hill  with  long,  swinging  strides.  And  his  eyes  were 
uneasy.  For  he  did  not  care  to  remember  all  that  he  had 
done  and  said  in  that  half-hour. 

To-morrow  the  yearly  Sessions  were  to  be  held  in  Grey 
Wolf,  and  the  one  street  of  it  was  choked  with  passing  life. 
In  the  dust  a  half-dozen  north-bred  huskies  were  fighting; 
the  smell  of  bananas  and  tar  and  hot  leather  and  groceries 
hung  heavily  round  the  -Hudson  Bay  Store.  Two  Indian 
women  squatted  outside  the  Store  with  round-eyed  babies 
on  the  backs,  and  within  a  score  of  bucks  were  buying 
ammunition  and  tobacco. 

Dick  heard  Leigh's  voice  raised  in  fluent  Cree  expos- 
tulation, and  he  knew  that  the  men  were  bargaining  for 
debt  on  the  furs  of  the  coming  winter.  He  swung  past 
with  a  shrug.  Most  of  those  Indians  were  bankrupt  now. 
They  would  be  more  bankrupt  by  spring,  and  then  would 
begin  trouble  with  the  Hudson  Bay  and  Revillons;  star- 
vation perhaps,  and  theft. 

All  these  things  and  many  more  would  come  in  Dick's 
way  later  on.  They  were  the  warp  and  woof  of  the  North- 
West.  They  were  the  day's  work  and  the  grim  night's 
anxiety. 

Tempest  met  him  outside  the  barracks. 

"  An  Indian  has  reported  a  Galician  sick  and  alone  in 
a  shack  along  the  trail  to  Stony  Point,"  he  said.  "  I  can't 
go,  because  of  the  Judge,  and  Kennedy's  not  back.  If  you 
go  at  once  you  can  be  back  in  time  for  breakfast,  Dick. 
And  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  send  you." 

Dfck  was  in  no  mood  for  twelve  hours  and  more  of  lonely 
forest.  Since  he  came  back  from  Edmonton  he  had  been 
in  no  mood  for  twelve  hours  of  himself. 

"  Damn  the  Galician,"  he  said.  "  We  could  do  with  a 
few  less  of  him." 


234  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Tempest  pushed  up  the  brim  of  his  Stetson,  looking  at 
Dick  with  more  friendliness  than  usual  in  his  grave  eyes. 

"  You  are  not  very  gay  yourself/'  he  said.  "  Feel  fit 
to  go?" 

"  Oh,  Lord,  yes.  And  that's  more  than  you  are,  by  the 
look  of  you,  old  man." 

Tempest's  face  softened. 

"  I  haven't  been  good  company  lately,"  he  said.  "  But  I 
don't  want  to  make  you  pay  for  it.  A  man  doesn't  care 
to  alienate  one  of  the  few  friends  he  has  affection  for." 

Dick  looked  at  the  ground.  No ;  a  man  did  not  care 
to  do  it,  but  it  was  probably  going  to  be  done  very  shortly. 

"  We'll  both  feel  better  when  this  heat's  over.  It  cer- 
tainly was  a  snorter  in  the  court-house  this  morning.  And 
it  will  be  worse  to-morrow,  very  likely.  I'll  take  a  snack 
with  me  and  go,  then.  Shall  I  take  Flanks  or  the  pie- 
bald?" 

"Better  have  Flanks.  Kennedy  had  the  pony  most  of 
yesterday.  Bring  the  man  in  if  necessary.  And  you  can't 
waste  time,  you  know.  There  is  work  to  put  through 
before  the  cases  start  in  the  morning." 

Dick  nodded  and  went  in  to  hurry  Poley  over  the  provid- 
ing of  eatables  for  him.  His  pocket-flask  he  filled  himself. 
Since  he  came  back  from  Edmonton  it  had  required  to  be 
filled  more  often  than  any  case  of  assistance  on  the  patrols 
seemed  to  warrant.  Then  he  harnessed  up  the  big  chestnut 
into  the  buckboard;  took  such  things  as  guesswork  and 
knowledge  suggested  for  the  aid  of  the  sick  man,  and 
plunged  from  the  blazing  heat  of  afternoon  into  the  cool 
greens  of  the  forest.  The  Galician  might  be  suffering  with 
anything  from  smallpox  to  angina  pectoris  or  broken  limbs. 
That  did  not  trouble  Dick.  It  was  all  in  the  day's  work, 
just  as  the  knowledge  that  a  king-bolt  or  a  spring,  or  a 
shaft  might  break  on  this  rough  trail  of  corduroy,  deep 
pot-holes  and  tree-butts  was  all  in  the  day's  work.  Chance 
and  danger  were  fed  to  him  with  his  daily  meals,  and,  like 
many  another  man,  he  found  their  sauce  the  principal 
thing  which  made  his  food  worth  while. 

In  all  directions  the  birds  were  home-coming.  Their 
calls  and  twitters  and  flurry  of  quick  wings  knit  up  the 
long  aisles  into  runs  and  chords  of  sweet,  eager  sound. 


"THE    FORCE    ISN'T    A   NURSERY5      235 

Scents  blew  along  the  trail  to  Dick's  face ;  damp  and  clean 
and  piney.  Golden  light  dredged  through  the  black  needles 
of  the  jack -pines  and  the  wide-spread  spruces,  and  pow- 
dered the  slender  white  of  birch  and  cotton-wood  with  yel- 
low dust.  And,  hour  by  hour,  the  beat  of  hoofs  and  the 
jarring  of  the  rig  could  do  more  than  faintly  blurr  the  sur- 
face of  the  deep,  warm  silence  that  lay  like  Peace  itself 
upon  the  earth. 

The  chestnut  swung  along  with  his  awkward,  tireless 
gait ;  obedient  to  the  light  hand  of  the  man  whom  he  knew 
for  his  master ;  and  Dick  sat  still,  with  his  lean  face  expres- 
sionless and  his  eyes  staring  out,  unblinking,  below  the 
heavy  brows.  He  was  thinking  of  a  comparison  in  Ruskin's 
"  Ethics  of  the  Dust " ;  a  comparison  of  the  awful,  hope- 
less difference  between  the  hyaline  block  which  is  pure, 
untouchable  in  its  integrity;  which  unhesitatingly  repulses 
everything  evil,  and  of  its  brother  block;  weak,  immoral, 
accepting  corruption,  unable  to  deny  the  insiduous  power 
of  corroding  fluids.  To  the  lay  eye  those  two  blocks  looked 
alike,  even  as  he  and  Tempest  had  looked  alike — 
years  ago.  Life  had  used  various  acids  to  test  the 
two  men.  But  Tempest  only  had  won  out.  Grange's  An- 
dree  might  break  his  heart  and  his  work,  but  neither  she 
nor  anything  else  could  make  him  evil.  Dick  of  his  own 
free  will  had  taken  tests  which  had  left  their  scars  and 
their  rotten  places,  and  which  had  eaten  out  of  him  the 
power  to  stand  where  he  would  have  chosen  to  stand1 
now. 

Fully  he  saw  this,  as  a  man  may  bring  himself  unflinch- 
ingly to  look  on  himself.  And  still  he  drove  through  the 
calling  musical  forest  with  that  concentrated  look  on  his 
face.  Ahead  came  faintly  the  smell  of  cooking-fires;  of 
green  wood  smoke  and  fresh-grilled  bacon  and  coffee. 
Round  a  sharp  elbow  in  the  trail  showed  a  clearing  sunk 
among  the  dark  pines  and  a  knot  of  covered  wagons  like 
huge  brown  beetles  asleep.  Where  the  flames  pulsed  up 
women  moved  and  children's  laughter  echoed,  sweet  and 
shrill.  A  man  slouched  forward  big  and  sunburnt,  leaving 
a  trail  of  tobacco-smoke  blue  on  the  still  air. 

Dick  pulled  up.  He  knew  these  for  settlers  trekking  in 
with  their  wives  and  children  to  the  Peace  River  country; 


2536  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

and  he  knew  that  they  had  left  Manitoba  when  the  last 
snows  yet  patched  the  earth,  and  that  the  leaves  of  fall 
would  be  orange  and  red  on  the  long,  silent  forest  trails 
before  they  homed  at  last  to  the  new,  unhandled  places 
that  waited  them.  The  man's  hands  showed  callosities 
along  the  palm.  He  and  his  mates  had  worked  their  way 
up  these  many  hundred  miles  by  splitting  wood  for  the 
river-steamers;  trenching  ground  for  a  farmer;  cutting  a 
much-needed  trail  with  the  aid  of  the  Mounted  Police.  And 
the  green  summer  moved  over  their  heads,  and  their  cattle 
fattened  on  the  lush  grasses,  and  their  children  grew  brown 
and  strong  as  they  went,  untroubled,  trusting  in  their  gods, 
to  an  unknown  future. 

"  We  heered  there  was  apt  to  be  a  river  somewheres," 
said  the  man,  and  touched  his  thick-haired  head  in  vague 
salute.  "  You  could  likely  tell  us,  sir.  Would  we  want  to 
raft  our  freight  over?  " 

"  There  are  a  creek  or  two  close  by.  You  can  cross 
those  very  easily,"  said  Dick.  "  You'll  have  to  raft  over 
the  Peace,  of  course.  But  you  won't  be  there  for  a  good 
while,  I  imagine." 

"  We've  rafted  two  a'ready.  Durned  slow  work.  What's 
that,  missus  ?  " 

A  young,  bright-eyed  woman  with  a  baby  in  her  arms 
spoke  at  his  ear. 

"  Ask  the  gentleman  won't  he  have  supper,  Jerry.  It's 
waitin'." 

"  No,  thanks."  Dick  looked  at  the  two.  They  were  the 
kind  of  importations  Randal  would  have  approved.  "  I'll 
get  something  where  I'm  going.  That's  a  remarkably 
young  settler  you've  got  there." 

"  Born  on  the  trail."  The  man  handed  up  the  pink  and 
white  bundle  with  pride.  "  The  missus  she  would  have 
him  christened  in  Grey  Wolf  yes'day.  Guess  we  won't 
find  no  parsons  where  we're  going." 

"  You'll  have  one  monthly — like  the  bills  in  cities.  But 
there  are  no  doctors  or  nurses  or  hospitals."  Dick  looked 
at  the  woman.  "If  your  children  get  sick,  you'll  have  to 
cure  them  yourself,"  he  said. 

"  Jerry  can,"  said  the  young  wife,  and  her  face  glowed. 
"  He  kin  do  most  all  things,  I  guess."  And  Dick's  last 


"THE    FORCE   ISN'T    A   NURSERY'      237 

sight  as  he  drove  on  was  of  the  two  strolling  back,  close 
together,  to  the  red  fires  and  the  brown  wagons  and  the 
dark  forest  which  made  their  home. 

The  forest  had  been  Dick's  home  so  many  times.  She 
was  the  breath  of  the  North-West;  the  door  of  Life;  the 
lover  who  called  men;  flattered  them;  played  with  them, 
and  who  stood  against  them  in  her  austerity  the  long 
winter  through  with  face  changed  and  aloof  and  uncon- 
cerned. Dick  loved  her  best  in  her  latter  moods,  when  he 
met  her  as  he  had  ever  done,  with  set  teeth  and  fingers 
crooked  to  tear  from  her  that  which  was  necessary  for  his 
bare  life.  He  loved  her  then  because  of  the  pain  she  gave 
him;  because  her  very  sternness  made  him  more  of  a  man; 
because  she  paid  him  in  self-respect  for  all  she  took  from 
him.  And  self-respect  was  not  the  usual  coin  of  Dick's 
exchange. 

The  sun  dropped  big  and  crimson  behind  the  dark  pine- 
trees  ranks.  The  bird-songs  frayed  into  tender  silence,  and 
the  pink  flush  died  out  of  the  sky  and  the  blue  shadows 
darkened  and  thickened.  Where  pot-holes  and  tree-boles 
made  alike  black  blots  on  the  trail  and  the  buckboard 
bumped  out  of  one  to  bump  over  the  other,  Dick's  keen 
eyes  saw  the  little  low  log  cabin  half-hid  among  the  sway- 
ing blue-grass  just  where  the  lip  of  the  forest  fell  away 
to  the  open  downs.  Dick  hitched  the  chestnut  to  the 
broken  snake-fence;  brushed  through  the  tall  grass  to  the 
door,  and  pushed  it  wide.  A  cool  scent  of  hemlock  boughs 
and  water  came  to  his  heated  face.  Then  something  moved 
in  the  dusky  shadows ;  took  a  slush-light  from  beside  the 
stove,  and  showed  as  a  woman,  wrinkled  and  worn,  with 
a  white  shawl  on  the  slender,  straight  shoulders.  Dick 
stepped  back,  embarrassed  and  amazed. 

"  I — I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  I  was  told — isn't 
there  a  Galician  sick  in  this  shack?  I  was  told  he  was 
alone." 

She  answered  him  in  French;  the  old-world  French  of 
Normany  and  Touraine. 

"  There  is  a  Frenchman  here — my  husband.  He  was 
seeking  work,  and  he  fell  ill." 

"  The  Indian  said  he  was  a  Galician.  I  hope  he  is  not 
very  sick,  madame?  " 


238  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  I  thank  you,  monsieur.  He  is  very  tired."  She  held 
the  light  toward  the  rough  bunk,  and  Dick  stooped  over 
it,  feeling  for  the  pulse  in  the  knotted,  sinewy  wrist.  The 
dignity  in  the  withered  old  face  and  the  slow,  refined 
tongue  had  over-set  him  for  the  moment,  and  the  weak 
passage  of  the  blood  through  the  old  thin  body  on  the 
bunk  told  him  more  than  he  was  quite  ready  to  put  into 
words.  For  his  own  young  vigorous  life  and  his  knowl- 
edge gave  him  the  truth  without  hesitation. 

He  pulled  his  flask  out  and  lifted  the  half-unconscious 
man.  Anything  was  better  than  inaction  with  that  grave, 
sweet  face  looking  out  of  the  shadows. 

"  He  has  lived  a  long  and  a  difficult  life,  madame,"  he 
said  civiTly. 

"  And  he  was  not  fitted  for  it,"  she  said.  "  Mary,  the 
mother  of  all  men,  will  give  this  man  his  rest." 

Dick  shot  one  glance  at  her. 

"  Then  you  know  it,  madame  ?  "  he  said.  "  I — I  was 
afraid " 

She  smiled  just  a  little,  holding  the  slush-light  near. 

"  Love  has  quicker  eyes  than  the  eyes  of  a  stranger, 
monsieur,"  she  said;  and  Dick,  half-abashed,  laid  the  grey 
head  back  on  the  grass-stuffed  pillow,  and  took  the  light 
from  her  hand. 

"  Let  me  put  it  aside,"  he  said.  "  It  is  not  needed.  I 
do  not  think  he  will  suffer,  monsieur,  your  husband." 

"Bien,"  she  said  softly  as  the  sigh  of  a  breeze,  and 
sat  on  the  bunk-side  holding  the  chilling,  withered  hand 
between  her  own. 

Dick  trod  gently  to  the  window  and  waited  there,  astride 
of  a  box.  He  felt  the  hush  of  her  great  acceptance  of  the 
inevitable  closing  down  on  him.  Out  of  the  storms  and 
the  sordid  things  that  were  breaking  his  own  life  he  had 
come  twice  to-day  into  the  beauty  and  the  purity  and  the 
wisdom  of  love:  those  two  in  the  forest  with  the  child  be- 
tween them,  strong  and  glad,  beginning  a  new  life  to- 
gether; these  two  in  poverty  and  age  and  death,  parting 
in  the  dark  with  a  stranger  as  witness.  He  sat  very  still 
with  his  head  in  his  hands,  and  beyond  the  open  window 
the  breath  of  the  living  night  went  by. 

The  man  on  the  bed  stirred,  muttering.     Then  the  old 


"THE    FORCE    ISN'T    A    NURSERY'1      239 

woman  felt  strong  hands  under  her  arms,  and  Dick  lifted 
her  away. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  and  raised  the  dying  man,  hold- 
ing him  deftly  towards  the  incoming  wind.  And,  slow  and 
more  slow,  through  the  following  hour,  the  last  fight  was 
fought;  weakly,  and  very  nearly  in  silence,  for  the  man 
was  worn  by  years.  At  last  Dick  laid  him  down  again. 

"  He  has  gone  in  peace,  madame,"  he  said,  and  walked 
to  the  door  and  stayed  there  until  in  a  little  she  came  to 
him. 

The  night  was  grave  and  pale  with  stars  where  the  wan- 
dering wind  blew  the  grass  on  the  low-sloped  hills.  Night- 
hawks  were  calling,  and  their  thin  "  peent  peent "  slid, 
fine  as  a  thread,  along  the  large  stillness.  The  forest 
stood  motionless,  a  black  wedge  with  no  end  to  it,  and 
Dick  turned  his  eyes  from  it  to  the  little  indistinct  shape 
at  his  side. 

"  It  is  that  you  win  much  gratitude,  monsieur,  you  men 
of  the  Mounted  Police,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  lower 
and  very  steady. 

"  I  have  done  no  more  than  my  duty,  madame." 

"  Then  of  that  common  word  you  do  make  a  beautiful 
thing,"  she  answered,  and  Dick  tuned  on  her  in  sudden 
bitterness. 

"  Do  not  offer  me  gratitude/'  he  said.  "  I  did  not  come 
here  in  pity —  He  broke  off,  tried  to  shape  an  apology, 
and  felt  her  withered  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  You  have  done  no  more  than  your  work,  then,"  she 
said.  "  And  a  man's  work  is  himself.  I  have  lived  long 
enough  with  a  man  to  know  them.  But  the  one  ennobles 
the  other,  monsieur." 

"  Not  always."  Dick  spoke  dryly.  "  We  can  shame  our 
work,  and  it  can  shame  us." 

"  And  yet  you  can  rise  above  shame  nobly — you  men," 
she  said,  as  though  remembering. 

Dick  moved  with  a  sudden  jerk. 

"You  think  that?"  she  said.  "I  congratulate  you  on 
your — your  imagination,  madame." 

She  looked  past  him  to  the  forest  where  in  many  thou- 
sand little  round  nests  the  warm  eggs  lay  close  to  the 
mother's  breast;  where  in  many  burrows  the  sharp-eared 


240  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

i 

vixen  crouched,  guarding  her  young ;  where  the  great  puls- 
ing life  and  love  of  the  universe  beat  the  deathless  tune  in 
the  blood  of  a  myriad  hearts.  And  something  of  the  eternal 
fellowship  of  the  world  spoke  on  her  lips. 

"  It  is  the  age  for  struggle/'  she  said.  "  The  age  for 
fight.  The  young  cry  their  souls  out  to  gain  what  they 
desire — and  the  taste  of  those  drops  is  very  bitter  to  the 
tongue.  And  the  pride  of  the  struggle  is  more  than  they 
will  forego.  And  yet,  for  us  there  are  compensations,  mon- 
sieur. Like  little  children  we  creep  home  and  say,  '  Our 
God  does  understand — all  things.  For  He  is  bigger  than 
our  creeds ! ' ' 

"  God  is  only  another  name  for  creed — any  creed.  The 
creed  of  the  Koran  or  the  Eddas  or  the  Zenda-vesta — all 
creeds.  And  God  is  no  more,  madame." 

"  A  creed  is  something  made  and  accepted  by  our  finite 
intelligence.  How  dare  you  or  the  world  judge  an  infinite 
intelligence  by  that  ?  " 

Dick  was  silent.  This  old  woman  with  the  toil-worn 
hands  and  the  cotton  dress  and  the  speech  of  courtly 
France  was  only  one  of  the  many  anomalies  which  had 
come  under  his  hand  in  this  new  ever-changing  Canada. 
But  she  had  stirred  him.  He  wanted  to  say  more,  and 
he  held  his  lips  locked,  fearing  lest  he  should  say  too 
much.  In  a  little  she  spoke  again. 

"  I  have  kept  you  long.  And  perhaps  you  come  from  far. 
I  am  deeply  indebted  to  your  courtesy,  monsieur,  and  you 
shall  tell  me  what  is  now  your  desire  for  me  and — for 
him." 

"  I  have  to  get  back  at  once,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Dick. 
"If  you  care  to  come  with  me,  I  can  fasten  the  shack 
safely  until  the  afternoon.  If  not  I  will  come  or  send 
for  you  then." 

"  I  will  stay  until  then.  But  you  have  had  no  rest — 
no  food.  If  you " 

"  Thank  you ;  I  can't  wait."  Dick  struck  a  match,  and 
in  the  blue  spurt  of  light  he  looked  at  his  watch.  "  I  can 
only  just  make  it,"  he  said.  "  I  have  work  to  do  to-day — 
this  morning." 

'  May  the  good  God  prosper  you  in  it,"  she  said  gravely, 
and  Dick  laughed. 


"THE    FORCE    ISN'T    A   NURSERY'      241 

"  Gad,  he  could  be  better  employed,"  he  said.  And  then 
he  suddenly  stooped  and  kissed  her  hand. 

"  It's  for  women  such  as  you  that  men  have  died — and 
will  die,"  he  said.  "  Because  you  believe  in  us,  madame." 

The  she  heard  his  spurred  feet  go  quickly  through  the 
grass  to  the  fence,  and  the  sharp  tone  of  his  voice  as  he 
backed  the  chestnut  and  sprang  into  the  buckboard.  She 
watched  for  his  salute  as  the  horse  jumped  forward  in 
the  traces,  and  then  she  turned  back  into  the  hush  of  the 
shack  and  sank  on  her  stiff  old  knees  by  the  bunk. 

"  The  dear  Lord  have  mercy  on  that  lad,"  she  said. 
"  For  it  seems  plain  to  me  that  he  stands  at  the  cross- 
roads of  his  life." 

It  was  after  this  that  Dick  began  the  little  gallery  of 
sketches  and  paintings  and  vivid  charcoal  outlines  of 
Grange's  Andree  which  were  to  make  the  eyes  of  men 
burn  with  dry  tears  and  their  heart-beats  quicken  long 
after  the  beautiful  warm  flesh  which  had  been  a  woman 
was  gone  away  from  human  eyes  for  ever.  Something 
which  she  did  not  understand  held  Andree  from  speaking 
to  Tempest  of  these  meetings,  and  something  which  all  men 
understood  held  anyone  else  from  telling  him  of  the  easel 
set  up  in  the  little  back-parlour  at  Grange's  and  of  the 
work  that  went  on  there.  Andree  was  tired  of  Tempest. 
Nothing  which  he  said  or  did  could  flatter  her  as  that 
quick-handed,  lazy-eyed  man  flattered  when  he  sat  among 
his  tubes  and  brushes  and  made  her  laugh  at  her  laughing 
self  out  of  the  canvas;  but  it  was  not  in  her  nature  to 
let  go  of  any  living  thing  which  gave  her  such  adoration 
as  Tempest  gave. 

Dick  had  sufficient  eonscience  to  avoid  Tempest  and 
Slicker  when  he  was  able,  and  Slicker,  who  had  come  back 
to  Grey  Wolf  to  straighten  such  of  Ducane's  affairs  as  he 
could,  helped  him  there.  Slicker  was  lonely  when  Jen- 
nifer had  gone  East  to  her  mother  and  the  old  home ;  he 
found  no  comfort  in  Tempest's  grave  silences,  and  he 
hated  Dick  with  a  virulent  hate.  The  heat  of  the  long 
summer  sapped  his  strength  more  than  a  little,  and  with 
that  began  the  sapping  of  his  conscience,  until  it  seemed 
more  than  likely  that  Slicker  would  take  Ogilvie's  position 
as  remittance-man  of  Grey  Wolf  if  something  were  not 


THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

done.  Hints  or  suggestions  from  Leigh  or  Bond  or  even 
Tempest  only  confirmed  defiance  in  him,  and  then  Dick 
took  matters  into  his  own  hands  on  one  burning  day  in  late 
fall  when  the  smoke  from  the  forest  fires  cama  down  and 
blanketed  Grey  Wolf  with  a  thick  pungency  which  brought 
an  acrid  smart  to  the  eyes  and  a  breathlessness  to  the 
throat. 

Slicker  was  in  the  bar  with  a  red-headed  freighter  who 
had  just  driven  his  team  over  Halliday's  Hill,  and  who  had 
asked  Slicker  to  drink  with  him.  Slicker  did  not  like  the 
freighter  on  further  acquaintance,  and  he  sat  with  him  at 
a  little  table  in  the  corner  and  tried  to  think  of  an  excuse 
to  go  away  from  the  flow  of  vulgar  talk. 

Suddenly  the  knot  of  breeds  which  Jimmy  was  serving 
by  the  door  split  to  let  Dick  through,  followed  by  a  little 
alert  florid  man  whom  Slicker  knew  for  the  fire-ranger  of 
Grey  Wolf  district.  Many  of  the  tables  were  full,  for  over 
a  dozen  teams  had  come  in  from  the  South.  Dick  gave  one 
sharp  glance  from  end  to  end;  picked  his  man  without 
hesitation,  and  walked  over  to  Slicker's  corner.  He  leaned 
his  hands  on  the  table,  and  stooped  over,  speaking  suavely 
to  the  red-headed  man. 

"  Mr.  Pery,"  he  said.  "  You  camped  at  Halliday's  Rift 
two  nights  ago,  and,  by  some  curious  oversight,  you  forgot 
to  put  your  fire  out  when  you  went  on.  As  you  have  never 
done  such  a  thing  before,  of  course,  it  may  interest  you  to 
know  that  it  is  burning  yet.  And  so  is  Halliday's  oat- 
crop,  and  all  the  south  end  of  his  section,  and  possibly 
his  home-lot  as  well.  Do  you  happen  to  smell  wood- 
smoke  ?  " 

Pery  sprang  up.  He  had  a  virulent  tongue;  but  under 
Dick's  eyes  the  bluster  fizzled  out  like  fire  beneath  the 
hose.  Slicker  felt  a  pang  of  envy.  He  believed  himself 
as  much  of  a  man  as  Dick — if  not  more.  But  he  could 
not  have  silenced  the  freighter  to  listen  to  such  words  as 
Dick  spoke  now. 

"  You  had  better  be  careful,  Mr.  Pery.  I  imagine  you 
know  the  fine  for  carelessness  of  this  sort;  but  if  you  don't 
•we  shall  be  happy  to  enlighten  you  when  Sergeant  Tem- 
pest hears  your  case.  Your  kind  offer  to  go  out  with  Mr. 
Carruthers  and  the  rest  of  us  to  help  Halliday  will  be  an 


"THE    FORCE   ISN'T   A   NURSERY"     243 

extenuating  circumstance,  of  course.  What  is  it,  Car- 
ruthers  ?  " 

He  wheeled  as  the  fire-ranger  spoke  at  his  elbow. 

"  The  hotel-man — what's  his  name  ?  Grange  ?  Well, 
Grange  reckons  he  can  get  a  half-dozen  together.  And 
there's  you — and  myself — and  these  two  ?  " 

He  spoke  hurriedly,  putting  a  half-question  into  the 
words.  Dick  saw  refusal  on  both  faces,  and  a  little  smile 
ran  into  his  eyes.  He  liked  arranging  matters  so  that 
men  should  force  themselves  to  do  the  thing  they  dis- 
liked. 

'  Mr.  Warriner  won't  go.  There  might  be  some  danger. 
I  don't  know  if  the  same  reason  applies  to  this  other 
gentleman " 

"  That  settled  those  two,"  said  Carruthers,  a  few  min- 
utes later.  "  You  have  rather  brutal  methods,  you  know, 
and  the  boy  looks  a  bit  delicate  for  the  work.  But  we'll 
want  everyone  we  can  get.  I'm  dead  afraid  Halliday  will 
lose  everything  he  has — and  Plunkett  may  do  the  same. 
Here  are  Grange's  haul — eight.  That's  better  than  he 
promised." 

The  smoke  curled  among  the  boles  of  the  trees  as  the 
men  rode  South  at  a  slinging  gallop.  It  rose  in  the  long 
tree-galleries  like  incense  in  some  dark,  still  cathedral.  In 
boggy  places  where  the  damp  drew  it  low  it  lapped  along 
the  ground  like  the  grey  waves  of  a  shoreless  sea.  On  the 
rim  of  a  rocky  ridge  where  flames  forked  out  of  the  billow 
below  Carruthers  reined  up,  glancing  round  with  his  red- 
dened eyes. 

"  Is  there  any  man  can  get  us  through  by  a  short  cut 
to  Halliday 's  ?  "  he  asked.  "  We  can't  go  down  there 
now." 

"  I  can."  Dick  pushed  forward.  "  There's  a  possible 
trail  through  a  coulee,  and  across  a  muskeg.  But  if  any 
man  falls  out  he  may  not  get  found  again." 

"  That's  so.  Close  up,  gentlemen."  Carruthers  reined 
in  behind  Dick.  "  Kick  her  into  it,"  he  said,  and  with  a 
thunder  of  hooves  the  little  army  swung  to  the  right  along 
the  hilltop. 

Slicker  was  riding  a  pony  of  Ducane's,  and  when  the 
unstable  muskeg  came  underfoot  in  the  drifting  smoke 


244.  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

something  of  the  craven  spirit  of  its  master  seemed  to 
possess  it  and  it  endeavoured  to  lie  down.  Slicker  got  off 
and  explained  his  own  desires  with  the  whip-butt,  and 
Grange  helped  him.  But  before  the  pony  had  made  his 
choice  of  the  two  evils  Grange  spoke,  and  his  usual  giggle 
was  high  and  weak. 

"  I  guess  they've  cut  it,"  he  said. 

Slicker  looked  round.  The  muskeg  was  like  a  room  with 
four  irregular  grey  walls.  There  were  neither  doors  nor 
windows  to  that  room,  nor  any  sound  in  it  but  the  far-off 
sound  of  the  windy  fire  running  in  the  trees.  He  turned 
his  startled  blue  eyes  on  Grange's  inefficient  little  face, 
and  curbed  the  words  on  his  tongue. 

"  Well,  we're  all  right.     The  muskeg  won't  burn." 

"  But  we  can't  git  out.  An'  the  smoke  may  come  over. 
An'  we  got  no  food — an'  no  nothing." 

"  Dick  will  come  back  for  us,"  said  Slicker.  And  then 
his  heart  said  it  again,  with  a  sudden  shock  of  surprise. 
He  believed  that  he  hated  and  mistrusted  Dick.  He  knew 
that  he  had  shown  Dick  all  the  insolence  in  his  power. 
And  yet  he  knew  quite  certainly  that  this  man  who  had 
betrayed  Jennifer's  confidence;  who  was  playing  a  double 
game  with  Tempest;  who  never  upheld  the  honour  of  the 
Law  he  served  one  whit  more  than  he  had  to — he  knew 
that  this  man  would  come  back  through  the  fire  to  find 
them.  Why  he  knew  he  could  not  explain;  and  because 
this  vexed  him  he  unsaddled  the  pony  and  invited  it  to 
lie  down,  and  hammered  it  again  with  the  whip-butt  be- 
cause it  wouldn't. 

The  trail  into  Halliday's  Rift  was  an  evil  one  to  the 
men  who  followed  Dick  that  day.  East  and  west  the  fire 
was  eating  into  the  forest  with  fierce,  swift  jaws;  snap- 
ping at  tall  trees  and  passing  on  with  reddened  dripping 
fangs.  Down  open  galleries  the  smoke  was  thinned  by 
the  clear  shimmer  of  heat,  and  where  little  fires  ran  rapidly 
in  the  undergrowth  came  crackling  noises  that  sounded  like 
detached  grace-notes  on  the  huge  roaring  body  of  sound. 
The  smoke  blew  across  them;  blotting  out  sense  and  sound. 
It  lifted,  showing  spouts  of  flame  against  the  tall  canopy 
of  black.  And  then  they  stumbled  on  burnt  and  broken 
timber,  hot  and  tangled,  and  flaming  yet  here  and  there; 


"THE    FORCE   ISN'T   A   NURSERY'      245 

but  promising  a  way  through  where  the  fire  would  not 
come,  because  it  had  already  worked  its  will  there. 

It  was  a  way  through,  with  men  like  Carruthers  and 
Leigh  and  Dick  to  make  that  way.  But  it  was  done  prin- 
cipally on  foot  and  altogether  in  torment.  The  smoulder- 
ing earth  burnt  their  boots  and  caused  the  horses  to  rear 
and  snort.  Charred  logs  were  white-hot  to  the  touch,  and 
acrid  thick  smoke  tormented  their  labouring  chests.  But 
they  won  through  it  to  the  width  of  fresh-ploughed  land 
beyond,  and  here  D.ick  spoke  a  consecutive  sentence  for 
the  first  time  in  two  hours. 

"  Good  man,  Halliday,"  he  said.  "  I  should  think  he 
had  saved  the  house.  We'll  be  out  of  it  across  this." 

And  then,  like  men  passing  out  of  Purgatory  with  its 
marks  upon  them,  they  rode  up  to  the  house.  On  the  east 
the  furrows  had  belted  it  in  to  safety;  but  down  in  the 
oatfield  flames  were  running  with  the  crackling  of  thorns 
under  a  pot,  and  below  the  pouring  smoke  the  fighting-line 
of  little  figures  swayed  back  and  forth,  taking  a  little  here 
to  lose  it  elsewhere.  Dick  spoke  again  as  the  men  flocked 
round  a  tub  of  water  by  the  kitchen  door;  sluicing  throats 
and  faces,  and  gasping  with  relief  and  with  the  sting  of 
the  water  on  their  burns. 

"  Where's  Slicker  ?  "  he  said  sharply.     "  And  Grange  ?  " 

The  men  looked  at  each  other.  Smeared,  blackened, 
with  blood-shot  eyes  and  drawn  faces  they  were  hideous 
enough.  But  they  turned  from  the  more  hideous  fear 
which  each  read  in  his  neighbour's  eyes.  Dick  swung 
himself  back  to  the  saddle. 

"  I  hope  you'll  have  luck  with  Halliday's  oats,"  he  said. 
"  Come  up,  you  old  devil." 

His  big  gelding  staggered,  and  Leigh  caught  at  the 
bridle. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Heriot  ?  "  he  said. 

"Oh — just  going  for  a  ride,"  said  Dick  lightly;  and 
he  jerked  his  bridle  free  and  disappeared  into  the  smoke 
that  rolled  above  the  plough-line. 

"  There  goes  a  man,"  said  Leigh,  and  rubbed  his  eyes. 
"  But  I  wouldn't  quite  like  to  name  the  figures  of  the 
chances  he's  taking  of  finding  them." 

"  He's  taking  more  chances  than  that,"  said  Carruthers. 


246  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  Well,  I  guess  we'd  best  go  and  do  what  lie  brought  us 
for,  anyway." 

Beyond  the  plough-land  and  the  burnt  timber  such  safety 
as  there  was  left  Dick,  and  he  charged  into  the  columned 
distances  where  the  fire  threaded  about  to  loop  him  in. 
Every  fibre  of  him  was  quick  with  the  knowledge  that  he 
must  save  Slicker.  Jennifer  loved  Slicker,  and  it  was 
through  Dick  that  he  was  here,  and  that  thought  stung 
sharper  than  the  little  sparks  upon  his  hands.  The  fate 
of  Grange  did  not  trouble  him  particularly.  He  had  not 
very  much  reverence  for  human  life,  and  Grange  would 
have  to  die  some  day,  anyhow.  He  would  have  gone  after 
Grange,  had  the  man  been  alone,  because  such  matters 
were  scheduled  in  his  mind  as  the  natural  thing.  But  a 
little  bit  of  Grange,  such  as  his  charred  back-teeth  or  his 
knife,  would  have  satisfied  Dick  very  nearly.  Slicker  was 
different.  He  had  to  bring  Slicker  out  unharmed  or  to  stay 
in  himself;  but  he  was  not  sure  if  the  choice  would  be 
given  him. 

And  yet  there  was  a  half-wild  delight  to  him  in  the 
danger;  in  the  thunder  of  the  nearing  army  which  shook 
the  forest;  in  the  belching  smoke  and  the  rockets  of  flame 
that  shot  the  sky,  and  in  the  shrieking  and  the  whistling 
and  the  almost  human  screams.  Birds  flew  by,  low  and 
darting.  One  brushed  his  cheek,  and  fell  dead  in  his  hand. 
It  smelt  of  burnt  flesh  and  feathers.  All  the  undergrowth 
was  full  of  the  rush  and  the  hurry  and  the  squealing  of 
little  animals,  and  a  skunk,  singed  naked  as  a  young  rabbit, 
lay  in  the  trail.  Far-off  a  vixen  was  yelping  in  short, 
agonised  barks.  Behind  him  something  was  whining. 
Ahead  something  cried.  He  did  not  know  that  both  were 
the  flames  running  in  the  saskatoons  and  cranberries. 

So  far  he  had  kept  very  much  to  the  trail  by  which  he 
had  come.  But  Grange  and  Slicker  would  not  be  here. 
Somewhere  they  would  be  racing  before  the  fire,  unless 
they  were  in  the  muskeg.  Dick's  whole  heart  clung  to 
the  hope  that  they  were  in  the  muskeg,  and  he  rode  on, 
weaving  his  way  through  the  smoke-blinded  trails,  more 
by  instinct  than  sight. 

Down  the  crossed  trails  tall  trees  that  stood  apart  were 
like  tortured  Indians  with  their  scalp-locks  streaming. 


"THE    FORCE    ISN'T    A    NURSERY'      247 

» 

Grey  winding-sheets  of  smoke  wrapped  them,  and  of  the 
out  dun  clouds  a  column  of  fire  fell  presently,  leaving  a 
scarlet  streak  across  the  sight.  Red  flames  ran  like  merry 
monkeys  up  the  swinging  moss-beard  of  an  ancient  spruce; 
twitched  little  branches  off  and  flung  them  on  Dick's  head. 
Flames  crept  unseen  up  the  stairway  of  a  hollow  trunk, 
and  waved  triumphant  banners  as  the  wild  bees  rolled  out 
in  a  terrified  swarm  or  the  squirrels  rushed  and  tumbled 
to  their  death  below.  And  everywhere  the  forest  moaned 
and  cried,  and  fought  the  coming  death,  and  bowed  and 
fell  before  it.  In  the  air;  from  the  sky;  up  from  the 
tormented  earth,  the  man  recognised  the  cry  of  the  help- 
less against  the  devourer;  of  nature  against  the  hideously 
unnatural ;  of  life  against  death.  Branches  cracked  and 
flew  off  with  the  report  of  pistols.  Tall  trees  pitched 
sideways  with  a  human  shriek,  bearing  others  down ;  and 
the  fire  leapt  on  the  ruin  with  the  chuckling  hurry  of  the 
despoilers  of  the  slain. 

A  man  who  knew  less  of  horses  than  Dick  did  could 
never  have  forced  the  terrified  gelding  down  those  trails 
where  he  plunged  and  reared  and  struggled  against  the  bit 
that  was  growing  hot  in  his  mouth.  Heat  seared  the  eye- 
balls and  parched  the  lips ;  shooting  flames  snatched  and 
bit,  and  smoke  drove  into  the  labouring  lungs.  The  geld- 
ing pitched  suddenly;  and  before  Dick  found  his  feet 
again  the  glazing  eyes  and  shivering  outstretched  body  told 
him  all  that  he  needed  to  know.  He  stooped,  wrenching 
off  his  spurs  in  two  quick  movements. 

"  But  I've  only  one  boot-sole  left,"  he  said,  and  turned 
and  crashed  into  the  brush  with  never  a  look  behind.  The 
dying  horse  had  come  to  the  end  of  the  passage,  even  as 
he  himself  would  come  some  day.  But  it  had  done  its 
work  first.  If  he  brought  so  good  a  record  he  would  be 
content. 

It  was  Slicker,  smoking  his  fifth  cigarette,  and  still 
trying  to  cheer  Grange,  who  saw  something  loom  and 
gather  shape  and  stagger  near  in  the  rift.  He  ran  for- 
ward; caught  Dick's  shoulder,  and  felt  the  cloth  crisp 
and  melt  under  his  hand.  But  sudden  strangling,  unex- 
pected sobs  kept  him  from  any  words  at  all.  Dick  did  not 
heed.  Stopped  in  his  blind  reeling  progress,  he  sat  down 


248  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

promptly.     Then   he   laid   himself   flat,   feeling  the   cool 
spongy  mosses  against  the  naked  parts  of  his   smarting 

body. 

Later,  Dick  rode  back  into  Grey  Wolf  on  Slicker's  pony ; 
and,  once  the  familiar  trail  was  reached,,  Grange  raced 
home  on  his  raking  bay  mare  to  his  work  and  to  Moosta. 
But  where  the  one  man  rode  with  his  burnt  shoulder  stiffen- 
ing under  the  singed  shirt,  and  his  foot  throbbing  where 
the  boot-sole  was  charred  off,  and  where  the  other  man 
walked,  silent  and  with  long  light  steps,  there  was  little 
excitement  or  speech.  Slicker  raised  his  head  at  last. 

"  I  guess  you  know  I  hate  you,"  he  said  bluntly.  "  Why 
don't  you  hate  me  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  recognise  that  you  have  the  better  right, 
Slicker." 

"  Well — if  you  hadn't  been  such  a  cur  to  Jennifer " 

"Do  you  mind  if  she  is  hurt  or  not?  " 

"  Do  I  mind?  Why — she's  always  been  everything  to 
me.  She's  like  a  sister  and  a  mother,  and  she's  the  best 
chum — what  are  you  looking  like  that  for?  " 

"  I  was  appreciating  the  way  in  which  you  have  been 
proving  your  words  lately,  Slicker." 

Slicker  flushed  hotly.  He  trudged  on;  and  presently 
he  said: 

"  You  always  were  a  sneering  beast." 

"  I  know.  But  I  do  not  expend  my  powers  on  my  neigh- 
bours only,  I  assure  you." 

"What's  a  fellow  to  do?"  Slicker  spoke  sulkily.  "I 
won't  go  into  my  uncle's  business  in  Toronto.  He's  always 
at  me  about  it — and  I  won't  do  it." 

"  You  want  to  get  your  neck  under  some  yoke,  though 
I  am  the  last  man  to  preach  obedience  to  you.  Why  not 
try  our  game?  It  has  some  elements  of  interest." 

"  Go  into  the  Police  ?  "  Slicker  stopped  short  with  his 
blue  eyes  wide. 

"  Exactly.  If  you  could  manage  to  think  while  you 
were  moving — thank  you.  I  would  rather  like  to  get  back 
to  Grey  Wolf  before  dark." 

It  was  long  before  Slicker  spoke  again.     Then  he  said: 

"Do  you  advise  it?" 

"  Do  I  do  what  ?    Oh — the  Police,  you  mean  ?     My  dear 


"THE    FORCE   ISN'T   A   NURSERY'1      249 

fellow,  no.  I  never  advise  a  man  to  do  anything.  It  is  a 
most  injudicious  and  unnecessary  way  of  making  enemies. 
But  if  you  speak  to  Tempest  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  will 
advise  you.  He  has  a  soul  above  the  sordidness  of  per- 
sonal results." 

On  the  edge  of  the  long  ugly  street  with  Grey  Wolf 
clinging  to  the  sides  of  it  Slicker  hesitated,  jerking  his 
words  out. 

"  I  called  you  a  beast,  and  you  are.  But  you're  a  brave 
beast.  I  concede  you  that.  I  hate  you  because  you — you 
don't  seem  to  recognise  what  a  man  naturally  owes  a 
woman.  But  I  thank  you  for  coming  after  me." 

"  Ah.  And  now  that  you  have  paid  your  debts  you  can 
go  on  hating  me  with  a  clear  conscience.  I  think  I  would 
prefer  that  you  did,  so  long  as  you  realise  that  you  forfeit 
that  right  so  soon  as  you  place  yourself  in  the  same  cate- 
gory with  myself.  You  are  heading  for  it,  you  know." 

"  Well,  I — I  guess  I'll  likely  speak  to  Tempest  to- 
morrow," said  Slicker,  and  he  did  it;  disturbing  Tempest 
where  he  worked  at  his  office  table,  and  plunging  into  the 
subject  impetuously. 

"  My  lungs  are  O.  K.,"  he  said.  "  There  was  no  disease, 
you  know.  Only  a  weakness.  De  Choiseaux  says  any 
doctor  would  pass  me." 

Tempest  thrust  aside  his  papers  and  gave  his  attention 
reluctantly. 

"  Well,  you  should  have  a  pretty  fair  idea  of  what  it 
means  by  now,"  he  said.  "  You're  not  blind." 

"  You  should  have  a  better.  Dick  told  me  to  dress  by 
what  you  said." 

"Ah."  Tempest  smiled.  "Did  he?  Well — you're  a 
teetotaler,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"  Xo.  I've  been  drinking  quite  a  little  bit  lately.  I  was 
more  than  half-seas  over  the  other  night."  Slicker  looked 
at  him  with  his  blue  eyes  darkening.  "  I  want  some  kind 
of  life  that'll  make  a  man  of  me,  Tempest,"  he.  said. 

Tempest  sat  still  for  a  space  with  his  jaw  in  his  hand. 
Then  he  said: 

"Do  you  think  that  would  help  you?" 

"  Why — I  reckon  it  should.     Don't  you  ?  " 

Tempest  turned  and  looked  at  him  squarely. 


250  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  You've  seen  one  little  corner  of  Western  life  from  the 
inside,  Slicker,"  he  said.  "  You  know  the  two  big  tempta- 
tions a  man  has  to  meet — for  himself  or  for  others.  He 
is  no  more  fit  or  able  to  meet  them  because  he  has  a  uniform 
on  his  back.  That's  the  mistake  that  gets  us  so  many 
wasters  in  the  Force.  A  man  has  got  to  be  a  man  before 
he  goes  into  the  R.  N.  W.  M.  P.,  or  I  guess  he's  not  par- 
ticularly likely  to  become  one  afterwards.  There  is  so 
much  which  he  can  hide  beneath  his  authority  if  he  has  a 
mind  to.  And  that  is  a  temptation  in  itself." 

"  I  don't  want  to  drink  or — or  doing  anything  I 
shouldn't,  Tempest.  I  am  sure  I  could  keep  straight  if  it 
was  worth  while." 

"  It  is  always  worth  while.  But  I  see  your  argument. 
We  are  made  of  such  poor  stuff  that  we  must  have  a  special 
motive " — he  turned  suddenly,  and  his  eyes  softened. 
"  No,"  he  said.  "  That's  a  lie.  We  are  made  of  such  good 
stuff  that  we  can  do  most  things  if  we  have  a  motive  at 
all.  But  I'm  not  going  to  help  you  into  our  Service  if 
your  only  motive  is  to  try  to  run  away  from  temptation. 
You  wouldn't  be  doing  it,  anyway.  You'd  likely  be  run- 
ning in," 

"  It's  not  exactly  a  temptation  yet.  I  could  easily  give 
it  up  if  I  had  something  special  to  interest  me." 

"Sure?  Well,  I  don't  want  to  discourage  you.  We 
need  all  the  men  we  can  get,  and  we  need  the  finer  kind 
of  men — like  yourself.  There's  work  in  plenty  for  them. 
But  a  drunken  life  and  a  sinful  life  go  easily  together, 
Slicker.  There's  no  use  burking  that  truth.  You'll  have 
to  know  it  and  a  good  deal  worse  if  you  choose  to  be 
one  of  us.  You'll  see  very  many  sordid  things,  and  very 
many  hideous  things,  and  a  few  very  glorious  things.  And 
you'll  have  your  full  share  of  temptations.  There  are 
enough  of  those  for  every  man,  no  matter  what  he  is 
made  of." 

"  I  know  that.  But  I  reckon  I  want  to  try  it,  Tem- 
pest." 

Then,  for  God's  sake,  keep  straight."  Tempest's  voice 
sharpened — it  sharpened  more  easily  now  than  it  used  to 
do.  "  The  Force  isn't  a  nursery  for  men  who  can't  handle 
themselves  and  who  expect  the  discipline  to  do  it  for  them. 


"THE    FORCE    ISN'T    A    NURSERY'      251 

And  it  isn't  a  stalking-horse  for  the  men  who  want  to  do 
evil  without  being  found  out."  He  stood  up,  laying  his 
hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder.  "  I'll  send  in  your  name  if 
you  like.  And  for  many  reasons  I'll  be  glad  to  do  it.  But 
remember  this,  Slicker.  Our  uniform  isn't  a  shield  against 
temptation,  and  it  can  be  a  cloak  for  sin.  The  man  him- 
self has  got  to  mean  as  much  as  the  uniform,  or  the  thing's 
a  mockery — a  damned  mockery."  He  stopped  with  a  swift 
stab  of  conscience.  In  how  far  was  he  upholding  these 
tenets  which  he  taught — which  he  had  always  taught  and 
always  practised  until  now  ?  "  We  have  all  got  our  own 
rows  to  hoe,  Slicker,"  he  went  on.  "  And  it  isn't  easy  to 
hoe  them  well.  But  I  believe  you'll  do  your  best." 

"  I'll  try."  Slicker's  young  face  was  grave  and  flushed, 
and  his  blue  eyes  were  anxious.  "  I — I  couldn't  say  much 
to  Dick;  he's  such  a  sneering  beast.  But  I  do  recognise 
that  it — it  means  a  good  deal  in  many  ways  to  wear  the 
uniform.  And  I  do  want  to  make  good,  Tempest." 

"  That's  right,  old  chap.  Heaven  send  you  do.  Now  I 
must  turn  you  out,  for  I'm  busy.  Come  round  to-night  and 
give  me  particulars.  I  think  it  is  more  than  likely  that 
we'll  be  proud  of  you  later  on,  you  know." 

"  Tliank  you,  Tempest."  Slicker  flushed  with  pleasure. 
"  You  are  a  good  sort."  And  he  went  out  in  a  glow  of 
friendship  and  pity  for  the  man  who  was  "  having  such 
a  rotten  time  with  that  little  devil  Andree."  He  passed 
Grange's  bar  with  his  chin  up,  and  he  went  for  a  long 
walk  in  the  forest,  concocting  a  letter  in  which  he  would 
explain  it  all  to  Jennifer.  But  the  exact  connection  of  the 
"  sneering  beast  "  with  this  matter  which  was  so  exciting 
him  seemed  to  escape  him,  although  it  did  not  escape  Jen- 
nifer when  she  read  the  letter. 

Through  the  fall  and  the  early  winter  life  went  forward 
as  it  ever  did  in  Grey  Wolf.  A  few  new  clerks  came  and 
went  in  the  Stores.  A  prospector  drowned  himself  from 
a  canoe  in  the  Lake,  and  the  young  ice  broke  beneath  two 
sledfulls  of  freight  and  necessitated  court-cases  before  any- 
one would  pay  the  damage.  Hotchkiss  was  publicly  con- 
victed and  sent  to  the  cells  for  a  month,  on  account  of  a 
specially-prolonged  torture  of  Mrs.  Hotchkiss,  and  Dick 
varied  the  monotony  of  that  month  for  him  by  all  the 


252  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

refinements  of  unease  which  discipline  allowed.  The 
trackers  had  come  and  gone.  The  yearly  Treaty  party  had 
passed  through  from  some  vague  place  on  the  map,  and 
they  too  had  gone.  Even  the  birds  had  left  Grey  Wolf 
before  the  hunters  went  to  the  chilling  woods  for  their 
long  season  of  silence  and  labour.  Sleighs  took  the  place 
of  wheels,  and  furs  of  light  coats  and  uniforms.  Tempest 
had  several  long  journeys  on  special  investigation  business, 
and  Dick  had  much  outline  work,  with  or  without  Ken- 
nedy's help.  Twice  he  had  written  to  Jennifer;  once  she 
had  answered — just  a  few  sweet,  true,  simple  lines,  like 
herself,  and  Dick  carried  them  in  his  breast-pocket  with  the 
little  picture  he  had  made  of  her.  And,  when  time  allowed 
him,  he  painted  Andree. 

He  had  meant  to  paint  a  few  pictures  of  her  only.  To 
rouse  her  vanity  to  a  living  force  and  then  persuade  her 
to  break  with  Tempest  completely.  He  knew  that  nothing 
short  of  her  actual  refusal  to  speak  to  him  or  touch  him 
would  cure  Tempest.  How  deeply  the  man  loved  her  he 
hardly  knew.  But  how  terribly  her  coquetries  and  her 
indifference  and  her  occasional  half-yieldings  were  affect- 
ing him  Dick  knew  well.  It  was  time  to  stop  this  thing. 
He  should  have  stopped  it  long  ago.  And  yet  he  did  not. 
An  explanation  with  Tempest  would  mean  a  discontinu- 
ance of  those  hours  which  were  a  sheer  delight  to  the 
artist  in  him,  and,  though  this  he  guessed  but  vaguely,  to 
more  than  the  artist. 

Dick  had  that  force  of  spirit  which  dashed  colour  and 
heat  on  all  things  which  he  chose  to  handle.  He  had  the 
insight  which  is  brutal  in  its  clarity  of  interpretation,  and 
he  had  the  sick  and  restless  soul  which  can  never  run 
straight  to  any  goal.  All  these  things  made  a  very  good 
medium  through  which  to  paint  Grange's  Andree,  and 
Grange  himself  began  to  take  pride  in  the  filling  portfolio 
that  stood  in  the  corner  of  the  little  back-parlour.  That 
girl-head  with  the  smooth  round  arms  and  shoulders  came 
to  be  a  joy  to  more  than  Dick.  He  turned  her  into  an 
Indian,  with  hair  sleeked  down,  and  olive  limbs  straight 
and  tall.  He  made  a  Greek  girl  of  her,  draping  her  with 
sheets  from  Moosta's  box.  He  painted  her  with  hair  and 
dress  blown  back,  hauling  on  a  team  of  husky  dogs  brought 


"THE    FORCE   ISN'T   A   NURSERY'      253 

south  by  a  freighter.  He  sketched  her  until  he  knew  every 
trick  of  her — better  than  ever  he  had  known  Jennifer.  Jt 
was  all  a  pleasure  to  himself;  a  half-acid,  tormenting  pleas- 
ure, because  he  knew  that  it  must  end  very  soon,  and  what 
it  might  be  for  Andree  herself  he  neither  knew  nor  cared. 
She  would  do  anything  he  told  her  to  do,  and  when  he 
forbade  her  to  speak  to  or  to  look  at  Tempest  again  she 
would  obey. 

But  the  days  went  on  and  he  did  not  do  it.  They  went 
on  and  Tempest  did  not  know  of  it.  For  it  is  only  natural 
that  the  person  most  concerned  in  a  matter  of  this  sort  is 
the  one  kept  longest  in  ignorance.  But  at  last,  just  after 
Christmas,  the  day  came  for  Tempest  to  know.  And  it 
was  Miss  Chubb,  innocently  forgetful,  who  told  him. 


CHAPTER    XI 
"  IL  M'AIME,  JE  vous  DIS  " 

Miss  CHUBB  was  kneading  bread  on  the  morning  when 
Tempest  went  over  to  the  Mission  on  some  business  and 
stayed  a  while  in  the  kitchen  to  talk.  Miss  Chubb  usually 
expected  it,  and  produced  cake,  or  apples,  or  a  cup  of  tea 
as  an  offering.  And  Tempest  usually  got  good  medicine 
out  of  her  real  common-sense  and  cheerful  outlook  in  her 
cramped  life.  This  morning  he  had  something  rather  spe- 
cial to  tell  her,  for  the  confirmation  of  his  Inspectorship 
had  come  up  by  the  last  mails,  and  there  would  probably 
be  big  changes  for  him  before  long.  'He  explained  this  to 
Miss  Chubb,  sitting  back  against  the  kitchen  shelf  and 
watching  her  thin  hands  glancing  and  turning  in  the 
tin  pan. 

Miss  Chubb  stopped  her  work  abruptly,  staring  at  Tem- 
pest. There  was  a  smudge  of  flour  on  her  sandy  eye- 
brow, and  it  gave  the  suggestion  of  a  terrier  with  its  ears 
cocked. 

"  You  don't  say !  "  she  said.  "  Well,  I  do  call  that 
fierce." 

"  That  is  not  the  usual  manner  in  which  to  convey  con- 
gratulations," suggested  Tempest;  but  he  laughed  as  Miss 
Chubb  went  to  work  again. 

"  Why — maybe  not.  But  we're  not  to  be  congratulated. 
They  didn't  make  you  Inspector  to  leave  you  in  this  little 
hole,  did  they?" 

"  I  can't  tell  you.  It  is  not  likely  .  I  shall  be  sent 
somewhere  else,  I'm " 

He  stopped  abruptly,  but  Miss  Chubb  knew  that  the 
end  of  the  sentence  would  be  "  I'm  afraid."  She  set  her 
pale  lips  together.  For  she  knew,  too,  why  Tempest  would 
be  afraid  to  leave  Grey  Wolf. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  said,  "  Grey  Wolf  isn't  big  enough  to 
stand  such  style.  They'll  send  you  expeditioning  some 

254 


"IL    M'AIME,    JE    VOUS    DIS  "          255 

place — or  cleaning  up  a  post  that's  let  its  standard  down." 
She  laughed,  half-nervously.  "  You  have  the  name  for 
being  a  real  moral  influence  where  you  go." 

Tempest's  answering  laugh  was  constrained. 

"  I  didn't  come  over  here  to  be  abused,  Miss  Chubb," 
he  said. 

"  Why "      Miss    Chubb    proceeded    to    set    out    the 

bread-pans  with  a  celerity  born  of  much  practice.  They 
did  not  seem  to  aid  her  in  her  completion  of  the  sen- 
tence, and  she  turned  to  the  back  door  as  three  black- 
eyed,  black-haired,  mahogany-skinned  heads  thrust  them- 
selves in,  whimpering.  Then  she  slammed  a  pan  down  in 
sudden  desperation. 

"  I  wish  there  were  no  Saturdays  in  the  week.  I  cer- 
tainly do!  What  has  got  you  children  this  morning? 
Some  of  you  have  been  under  my  feet  all  day.  What's 
wrong,  Annie?  Jane,  did  you  make  Pauline  cry  any 
more  ?  " 

The  children  sidled  in,  with  fingers  in  mouths  and  eyes 
glancing  through  the  elf-locks  which  Miss  Chubb  had 
brushed  and  plaited  into  neatness  a  few  hours  since.  From 
their  whispers,  punctuated  by  covert  peeps  at  Tempest,  the 
fact  was  elicited  that  David  Mikwas  had  fallen  out  of 
the  swing  on  top  of  Pauline.  Miss  Chubb  examined 
bruises;  sent  the  two  elder  children  out  again,  and  gave 
Pauline  a  dab  of  dough  to  play  with.  Then  she  returned 
to  her  work  with  a  sigh  that  seemed  to  come  straight 
through  her  thin  body  from  the  toes. 

"  Mr.  Barnes  always  goes  off  for  the  whole  day,  Sat- 
urdays," she  said.  "  I  don't  blame  him.  I  should  if  I 
was  teaching  the  alphabet  and  simple  division  all  week. 
But  those  children  do  choose  to  have  all  their  accidents 
on  Saturdays,  and  Miss  Hemming  isn't  much  use  with 
them.  Pauline's  been  left  here  all  summer,  too,  poor  little 
mite.  That  father  of  hers  ought  to  do  something  for  her, 
Sergeant.  I — I  mean " 

"  N'ever  mind."  Tempest  laughed.  "  It's  too  »ew  yet, 
isn't  it?  Job  Kesikaw  is  her  father,  Barnes  told  me.  A 
clever  trapper,  and  he  must  be  making  a  good  living. 
Doesn't  he  pay  anything  for  Pauline's  up-keep?" 

"  Never  a  penny.     And  the  way  he  treated  Florestine 


256  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

was  crueL  You  knew  he  was  married  to  Pauline's  mother 
first?  Well,  he  was.  A  good  trapper,  you  call  him?  I 
call  him  a  bad  lot." 

She  slapped  the  dough  into  one  pan  after  the  other, 
and  set  them  aside  to  rise.  There  was  not  time  for 
pause  in  this  Mission  life  of  the  West. 

"  I  can't  make  him  pay,  you  know,  Miss  Chubb."  Tem- 
pest glanced  down  at  the  little  brown  ball  whose  chubby 
fingers  were  rapidly  making  the  white  dough  as  brown. 
"  But  if  I  come  across  him  I'll  see  what  I  can  do.  On 
the  Reserve,  is  he  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  suppose."  Miss  Chubb  scraped  the  pan  with 
a  noisy  knife.  "  He  came  to  see  Pauline  yesterday,  and 
got  a  good  square  meal  for  nothing.  These  Indians  know 
how  to  time  their  meal-hours.  And  then  he  carried  off  a 
hunk  of  pie  in  his  hat. 

Tempest  laughed  and  stood  up. 

"  I  will  certainly  remind  him  of  that  when  I  see  him. 
Here  are  some  visitors  for  your  bale-room,  Miss  Chubb. 
Why — it  looks  like  Grange's  wife;  but  I  don't  know  who's 
driving  her -" 

"  Oh,  dear."  Miss  Chubb  rubbed  vigorously  at  her 
flour-caked  arms.  "  Thanks  be  we  probably  won't  wear 
clothes  in  Heaven,  or  I  suppose  someone*  would  be  set  to 
the  distribution  job.  Yes;  it's  Moosta.  And  she'll  buy 
one  pinafore,  and  talk  for  an  hour  about  those  wonderful 
pictures  of  Andree." 

"Pictures  of  Andree?" 

"Why "  Miss  Chubb  looked  at  him.  Then  she 

went  white.  "  It's  nothing,"  she  said."  "  Mr.  Heriot  has 
been  sketching  her,  as  he  does  everyone  else,  you  know." 

"  Oh,"  said  Tempest  indifferently.  "  I  see.  I  just 
hadn't  thought  of  it." 

He  made  his  good-bye  cheerfully,  and  Miss  Chubb  never 
guessed  at  the  suspicion  and  the  fierce  jealously  which 
quickened  into  concrete  fear  at  her  words.  But  she  looked 
after  him  as  the  tinkling  sleigh  slid  over  the  white  ground, 
and  her  eyes  were  tender  and  pitying. 

"  There's  a  good  man  spoiled,"  she  said.  "  Unless  Dick 
Heriot  has  put  a  spoke  in  his  wheel.  And  I  don't  know  if 
that  will  mend  matters  much." 


«IL    M'AIME,   JE    VOUS   BIS"         257 

That  night  Tempest  found  occasion  to  go  into  Grange's 
back-parlour  for  the  first  time.  Moosta  only  was  there, 
among  her  babies;  and,  as  usual,  her  English  and  her 
comprehension  fled  before  Tempest.  But  he  looked  at 
that  face  which  hung  in  its  dark  beauty  below  the  Ma- 
donna ;  and  Moosta,  in  her  pride,  dragged  Dick's  port- 
folio from  the  corner,  and  spread  it  before  him. 

"Him  s'pose  Andree  tres  jolie/'  she  said.  "Goot, 
eh?" 

"  Very  good,"  assented  Tempest,  and  laid  his  hands 
upon  those  bold,  merciless  paintings  with  their  alluring 
dashes  of  colour  and  their  suggestive  tragedies. 

And  then  he  went  home,  and  he  did  not  sleep  at  all. 
Dick  had  interpreted  Andree's  beauty  as  even  Tempest 
had  never  realised  it.  There  were  faults,  plenty  of  them, 
in  the  workmanship;  but  the  power  was  undeniable.  And 
Dick  had  done  more,  much  more.  He  had  shown  out  the 
animal  side  of  her  terribly,  callously,  and  yet  with  that 
strange  charm  which  made  men  love  Andree  even  when 
they  recoiled  from  her.  Those  pictures  were  clever,  cruelly 
clever.  Dick  had  never  done  such  good  work  before,  and 
he  would  not  do  it  again.  For  not  again  would  he  have 
such  a  model  or  such  a  reason.  Tempest  threshed  from 
side  to  side  of  his  bed,  burning  with  a  righteous  anger 
and  grief. 

Dick  was  his  friend:  his  friend.  And  Andree  was  the 
woman  he  loved.  And  it  was  Dick  who  was  taking  Andree 
away  from  him.  Dick  who  had  perhaps  been  doing  it  all 
these  months.  Dick,  who  had  reviled  her,  laughed  at  her, 
urged  Tempest  to  shake  himself  free  of  her.  Dick,  who 
had  held  her  up  to  contempt  as  he  now  held  her  up  to 
the  unlawful  admiration  of  any  man  who  happened  to 
stray  into  Grange's  back-parlour.  Tempest  shivered,  guess- 
ing for  how  many  eyes  Moosta  might  have  dragged  out 
that  portfolio  with  her  placid  grins  and  her  "  Goot,  eh  ?  " 
To  Tempest  in  his  reverence  the  thing  was  an  indecency, 
a  profanity,  an  outrage.  His  fury  against  Dick  became  a 
live  thing  through  that  night;  but  he  said  no  word  to  the 
man  because  the  thought  of  the  woman  over-rode  all  else 
in  his  heart.  He  must  get  Andree  away  from  this  life — 
now,  at  once.  By  bribery,  by  stratagem,  by  persuasion — 


258  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

any  method  would  do  as  long  as  it  took  her  from  Grey 
Wolf. 

It  happened  in  the  next  afternoon  that  Dick  found  the 
fat  German  who  had  bought  Robison's  land  in  the  bar, 
and  he  stayed  so  long  talking  to  him  of  possibilities  con- 
cerning the  Canada  Home-lot  Extension  Company,  which, 
as  Dick  warmly  hoped,  were  now  finding  themselves  baf- 
fled along  this  line  of  extension,  that  he  had  no  time  to 
spare  for  Andree.  And  it  was  the  first  day  he  had  been 
in  the  hotel  that  week,  too,  for  he  had  been  chasing  a 
defaulting  freighter  along  the  Moon-Dance  trail.  He  went 
out  at  last  by  the  back  passage,  and  there  Andree  stood 
waiting  for  him;  half-defiant,  half-piteous.  He  took  her 
face  between  his  hands,  and  her  strange,  lawless  beauty 
unsteadied  him  as  it  had  done  more  than  once  or  twice 
of  late. 

"  I  will  not  have  you  come  and  not  come  to  me,  Dick," 
she  said.  "  You  must  speak  with  me.  You  must." 

"  Do  you  think  I  let  a  girl  say  must  to  me,  Andree  ?  " 
He  laughed  a  little,  but  he  did  not  move  his  eyes  from 
her  face.  "  What  have  you  got  that  red  thing  round  your 
head  for?  You  look  like  a  Bacchante — or  a  bit  like  the 
Fornarina." 

Andree  did  not  know  what  they  were.  But  she  knew 
how  to  meet  the  unwilling  admiration  in  Dick's  eyes. 
Very  softly  she  drew  the  lids  shut  with  her  fingers.  Then 
she  said: 

"  Your  looking  does  go  through  me.  And  I  do  not 
understand.  And  your  eyes  do  hurt,  some  days.  And 
some  days  Tempest  does  make  his  eyes  hurt  me  too. 
Why?  " 

Dick's  opportunities  offered  often  enough.  But  he 
would  not  take  them.  He  would  not  take  this  one. 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  Let  me  open  my  eyes  and  see 
if  they'll  hurt  you  this  time.  Now,  what  do  they  say  to 
you  ? " 

He  was  half-laughing,  and  yet  idly  curious.  And  he 
was  not  sure  that  he  wanted  those  eyes  interpreted  fully 
just  now. 

Andree  looked,  drawing  her  delicate  brows  into  a  line. 
Then  she  pulled  his  face  forward. 


259 

"  Ah — Dick "  she  said,  and  met  his  lips  with  her 

warm  ones. 

He  had  kissed  her  a  hundred  times  before;  carelessly, 
or  in  thoughtless  amusement.  But  the  swift  passion  in 
those  clinging  lips  thrilled  him  as  anything  that  Andree 
said  or  did  had  never  thrilled  him  before.  He  put  his 
hands  on  her  shoulders  and  kissed  her  back,  twice.  Then 
he  let  her  go,  and  went  down  to  the  barracks  with  the 
memory  of  that  first  kiss  tingling  his  blood  yet. 

Andree  flung  on  her  fur  cap  and  her  coat,  and  went  out. 
And  as  she  passed  the  bar  Jimmy  reached  an  arm  to  catch 
her  waist. 

"  Haven't  seen  you  to-day,  Andree,"  he  said. 
"What " 

"  Ah — diable !  "  said  Andree,  through  her  teeth,  and  she 
boxed  his  ear  with  a  swinging  blow,  and  ran  out. 

Jimmy  rubbed  his  ear,  looking  after  her  ruefully. 

"  Lord,  she's  a  handful,"  he  said.  "  I  wouldn't  want 
to  be  the  man  she  chose  to  settle  down  wi'." 

Andree  fled  down  the  street  and  along  the  forest-trail 
with  her  eyes  bright,  and  her  blood  racing  in  her  veins. 
The  keen,  sharp  air  brought  the  brilliance  to  her  cheeks 
and  quickened  her  breath,  and  some  vague  excitement  was 
driving  her.  She  did  not  account  for  it;  did  not  try.  She 
just  ran  for  the  joy  of  running,  and  the  joy  of  living; 
skimming  over  the  tramped  frozen  surface,  fleetly  and 
surely  as  a  hare.  Then  the  gladness  left  her  face  suddenly, 
and  she  stopped,  shrugging  her  shoulders.  For  Tempest 
had  turned  the  corner  of  the  trail,  and  he  came  to  her 
swiftly.  But  there  was  a  shiver  of  superstition  in  his 
heart.  It  was  here  he  had  first  found  Grange's  Andree  a 
year  ago.  Was  it  here  that  he  was  to  lose  her?  He  spoke 
of  other  things  first,  to  steady  himself.  Then  again  he 
asked  her  to  marry  him  as  he  had  done  so  many  times 
before. 

"  And  I  can  give  you  so  much  now  that  I  am  Inspector," 
he  added.  "  So  much  that  you  would  enjoy  having." 

He  knew  better  now  than  to  plead  to  Andree  for  love. 
That  happiness  was  not  for  him  yet;  perhaps  not  at  all. 
But  all  his  tenderness,  all  his  manhood  was  struggling  for 
the  right  to  protect  and  cherish  Grange's  Andree.  She 


260  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

pulled  her  hand  from  his  petulantly,  and  for  the  first  time 
there  was  no  shy  fear  of  him  in  her  voice.  That  kiss  of 
Dick's  had  lit  in  her  something  which  Tempest  could  not 
quench.  She  did  not  know  it  consciously.  She  was  far  too 
stupid  for  that.  But  instinct  told  her  without  hesitation  or 
surprise. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  marry  you/'  she  said. 

"  But  I  can  give  you  so  much,  dear.  Think !  A  carriage. 
And  pretty  dresses.  And  servants  to  do  as  you  tell  them." 

She  pouted,  looking  away  from  his  tense,  earnest  face. 
Neither  could  see  the  tragedy  of  that  wooing.  To  the  girl 
it  was  merely  a  tiresome  interlude  which  yet  pleased  her 
vanity.  To  the  man  it  was  the  swing  in  the  balance  of  the 
soul  he  loved  best. 

"  I — I  do  not  want  servants,"  she  said.  "  I  would  rather 
have  Dick  to  paint  me." 

For  all  Tempest's  care  his  voice  took  a  changed  note. 

"  You  won't  have  Dick  long.  He  will  soon  find  someone 
else  to  paint.  And  then  what  will  you  do  ?  " 

"  He  no  fin'  anozzer  si  belle."  Andree  flashed  round  on 
him.  "  He  say  so.  Him  say  me  best.  Him  love  me,  an' 
I  love  him." 

She  had  no  intention  of  being  brutal.  She  spoke  the 
thing  as  she  believed  it,  simply  and  directly.  But  for  a 
space  the  man  at  her  side  could  not  answer.  Then  he  said, 
slowly : 

"  Does  that  mean  that  you  are  going  to  marry  him  ?  " 

She  spread  her  hands  out. 

"What  matter?"  she  said.  "I  suppose.  But  I  do  not 
care  for  marry.  He  want  me  an'  I  want  him.  That 
"nough." 

"  You  are  sure  of  this,  Andree?" 

She  did  not  notice  anything  in  the  low,  steady  voice. 

"  Mais  certainment,"  she  said.     "  I  do  love  him." 

"  No !  No,  you  don't.  You  love  me.  Me.  You  want 
to  come  to  me — not  to  him.  Andree !  Andee !  " 

He  was  holding  her  by  both  her  arms,  and  his  white  face 
was  very  near.  Unguessed-at  defiance  rose  in  her.  She 
held  her  head  back." 

"  I  love  Dick,"  she  cried.    "  I  love  Dick !    I  love  Dick ! " 

He  held  her,  searching  the  fire  in  her  face  and  eyes.  And 


"IL    M'AIME,   JE    VOUS   DIS "         261 

he  believed  it.  The  immortal  thing  was  there.  Born  but 
to  die  in  Andree,  perhaps.  But  it  was  there.  He  let  her 
go. 

"  I  see  you  do,"  he  said  slowly.     "  I  see  you  do." 

He  looked  down  the  white  trail  whither  she  had  come 
to  him  twice. 

"  Andree,"  he  cried  sharply.  "  Are  you  sure  that  he 
cares  for  you  ?  " 

And  then  the  absurdity  of  the  question  struck  him.  How 
could  Grange's  Andree  know  the  heart  of  a  man?  How 
could  she  know  Dick's  heart  when  Tempest,  friend  of  his 
youth  and  companion  of  his  manhood,  did  not  know  it? 
But  Andree  had  no  doubts. 

She  looked  at  him  with  bright  cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes. 
Her  words  had  seemed  to  drive  home  to  her  a  truth  which 
she  had  not  known.  She  was  exulting  in  the  discovey  of 
something  new;  something  which  belonged  to  her — to  her 
very  self. 

"  Oui,"  she  said  violently.  "  C'est  vrai.  II  m'aime,  je 
vous  did.  Ah — je  lui  connais." 

For  a  moment  more  Tempest  looked  at  her  in  silence. 
In  the  dull  track  she  looked  bright  and  vivid  almost  as  a 
flame.  But  he  could  not  ask  again  for  that  which  Nature 
and  not  Andree  had  denied  him.  He  would  never  ask  for 
it  any  more.  It  was  not  to  be  for  him  to  shield  her  from 
the  dangers  which  crowded  round  her  careless  feet.  He 
could  do  nothing  for  her.  Nothing.  And  she  needed  guid- 
ance as  few  creatures  of  God's  earth  needed  it.  And  then, 
for  the  last  time,  he  took  her  hand  and  kissed  it.  He  had 
never  kissed  her  face. 

"  God  guard  you,  Andree,"  he  said,  and  left  her.  And 
along  the  winter  trail  she  ran  and  ran,  intoxicated  with 
her  unreasoning  joy. 

Dick  opened  the  front  door  of  the  barracks  to  Tempest, 
and  his  voice  was  quick  and  eager. 

"  Watson  is  starting  to-night  instead  of  to-morrow  morn- 
ing," he  said.  "  Can  we  get  those  permit-papers  filed  to 
send  out  with  him  ?  " 

Through  the  open  kitchen  and  up  the  passage  the  red 
of  the  winter  sunset  flooded  up  behind  him,  striking  his 
outline  tall  and  black  and  strong.  His  voice  was  strong, 


262  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

and  the  brown  hand  shut  on  the  papers  was  strong.  Tem- 
pest looked  at  him,  feeling  the  vigour  and  virility  in  him, 
and  in  one  blinding  flash,  realisation  leapt  to  him.  It  was 
Dick  who  had  done  this  thing  to  him.  Dick,  his  friend, 
who  had  done  it — knowingly,  secretly,  wilfully. 

He  went  giddy  for  a  moment,  and  put  his  hand  on  the 
wall.  Then  he  thrust  past,  speaking  thickly. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  Leave  them."  And  he  walked  into 
the  office,  and  turned  the  key  on  himself. 

The  yellow  and  egg-shell  blue  went  out  of  the  sky.  Dick 
went  upstairs,  whistling,  to  pack  his  kit  for  a  three-days' 
trip  to  Lower  Landing.  Light  drew  back  from  the  zenith, 
leaving  it  naked  to  the  stars,  and  across  the  river  the  dark 
pine-forest  settled  into  night. 

But  the  night  of  the  soul  was  on  Tempest  in  the  little 
bare,  cold  office  where 'he  sat  still,  staring  at  the  wall.  All 
round  him  were  the  maps,  the  blue  books,  the  filed  memo- 
randa, the  pencils,  pens  and  rulers  of  his  work.  He  had 
come  back  to  that  work  as  Dick  would  have  gone  in  like 
case  to  the  forest.  Come  back,  blindly,  unconsciously,  that 
it  might  help  him  through  with  his  pain;  that  work  which 
had  once  meant  most  of  all  to  him ;  that  work  which  he  had 
forsaken  for  a  personal  and  private  love,  and  which  had  its 
grip  on  all  his  fibres  still.  It  reproached  him  now;  cruelly 
and  bitterly.  It  mocked  at  him,  asking  what  life  had  given 
him  in  place  of  it.  A  friend?  Aye;  a  friend  who  had 
faced  death  with  him,  and  had  now  delivered  him  to  worse 
than  death.  A  woman  to  love?  Yes,  and  his  right  to  love 
her  was  taken  from  him,  and  his  prayer  that  he  might 
guard  her  denied. 

Twice  Poley  came  to  the  door,  intimating  the  advisabil- 
ity of  meals.  But  Tempest  had  one  answer  only  for  him. 

"  I  cannot  be  disturbed.  I  am  busy,"  he  said,  and  went 
on  sitting  motionless  in  his  chair  and  staring  at  the  hazy 
maps  on  the  wall.  Later  he  heard  Dick  and  Kennedy 
going  to  bed  in  the  room  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  Dick 
was  in  a  wild  and  reckless  mood,  and  Kennedy's  bellowing 
laugh  broke  loose  in  strangled  sputters  more  than  once. 
Then  night  and  stillness  dropped  on  Grey  Wolf,  and  still 
Tempest  sat  in  his  chair,  staring  at  the  wall. 

A  man  had  once  said  of  Tempest  that  he  had  reduced 


"IL    M'AIME,   JE    VOUS   DIS "          263 

religion  and  philosophy  to  2  satisfactory  working  basis  by 
fusing  in  himself  the  physical  and  spiritual  elements  until 
the  whole  was  a  sound  leaven.  This  was  somewhat  true, 
and  because  of  it  Tempest  suffered  rather  more  than  an 
ordinary  man  might  do.  For  he  could  not  blindly  blame 
the  universe  and  his  God  and  the  other  man,  and  so  excul- 
pate himself.  Like  one  of  an  earlier  day  he  had  set  out 
to  build  a  tower  to  Heaven  and  had  digged  a  pit  for  his 
own  feet  instead.  He  had  betrayed  his  work  even  as  Dick 
had  betrayed  him,  and  he  dared  not  call  Dick  the  most 
guilty. 

Beside  him  on  the  desk  lay  an  unfinished  report.  It 
should  have  gone  down  with  to-day's  mail,  even  as  those 
other  papers  'should  have  gone.  On  the  floor  under  the 
window  were  an  unopened  pile  of  official  envelopes  and 
three  text-books  with  the  pages  uncut.  Down  at  Pitcher 
Portage  Randal  was  waiting  to  see  him  in  regard  to  some 
trouble  with  the  breeds  there.  He  had  been  waiting  more 
than  a  month.  These  were  a  handful  of  things  only.  Tem- 
pest knew  the  multitude  that  bore  witness  against  him. 

Very  still  he  sat,  and  faced  the  array  of  them  as  they 
trod  past  him  through  the  night.  And  faced  also  the  mer- 
ciless, never-ending  problem  of  life.  Why  should  duty  and 
desire  clash  for  ever?  Why  should  spirit  and  flesh  be 
constantly  at  war?  Why  should  a  man's  knowledge  of  his 
own  sin  not  render  him  more  merciful  towards  the  sins  of 
others?  Tempest  knew  well  the  need  for  fight  in  the  hu- 
man soul.  He  knew  that  stagnation  is  a  bitterer,  because 
a  more  final,  thing  than  the  beating  out  of  a  heart  in  foam 
upon  the  rocks.  But  he  knew  also  that  a  man's  duty  lies 
neither  on  the  rocks  nor  in  the  backwater,  but  down  the 
steady,  strenuous,  sanely  direct  stream  of  Life. 

Tempest  had  dropped  into  a  backwater  to  please  him- 
self with  his  private  loves  and  desires.  And  now  he  was 
on  the  rocks.  He  knew  it,  and  because  the  pain  in  him 
would  not  let  him  be  he  stayed  there,  bruising  his  spirit 
and  beating  it  with  rods.  For  he  could  not  forgive  Dick; 
he  could  not  let  Andree  go,  and  he  could  not  take  up  his 
life  again.  And  he  understood  that,  as  a  man,  as  an  im- 
mortal soul,  as  the  one  firm  human  link  between  Time  and 
Eternity,  he  must  do  all  three. 


THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

The  lamp  on  the  desk  burned  low  and  went  out,  leaving 
an  evil  smell  of  smoke  and  kerosine.  Down  the  side  street 
among  the  naked  cotton-woods  a  starved  Indian  dog  was 
yelping  to  the  sky  his  qualifications  for  a  canine  heaven 
through  his  eternal  purging  away  of  all  the  fleshly  joys. 
Insensibly  that  dog,  emblem  of  his  race,  obtruded  himself 
on  Tempest's  thought.  Unfed,  cursed  and  kicked  the 
summer  through;  strapped  into  the  traces  all  the  winter; 
harness-galled,  sore-footed,  strained  by  the  dragging  of 
interminable  sledges,  it  yet  had  the  unflagging  heart  which 
did  not  fail,  the  warm  tongue  for  its  master's  hand,  the 
ready  and  obedient  ear  for  his  voice.  Tempest  bowed  his 
head  down  in  his  hands  and  thought  that  matter  out.  In 
some  way  it  made  his  own  conduct  seem  less  excusable, 
less  righteous. 

Through  long  hours  of  struggle  and  wordless  prayer 
Tempest  won  back  to  himself  his  belief  in  mankind.  Dick 
had  not  betrayed  him.  He  had  been  called  by  Nature  even 
as  Tempest  himself,  and  the  strain  in  the  man's  eyes  and 
voice,  and  the  thinner  lines  of  his  big  body  bore  witness 
that  he  had  recognised  Tempest's  prior  right  and  had  at- 
tempted to  yield  to  it.  It  was  Tempest  who  had  sinned  in 
doubting  his  friend.  It  was  Tempest  who  had  judged  an- 
other man  unheard.  It  was  Tempest  who  had  no  right,  no 
choice.  Tempest  who  must  tread  the  barren  trail  of  duty, 
leaving  the  younger  man  free  to  love. 

He  sprang  up,  walking  the  room  with  his  light  rapid 
steps.  This  thing  had  gone  beyond  him.  The  sacrifice 
was  his  to  make,  whether  he  would  or  no.  It  only  re- 
mained for  him  to  make  it  manfully,  ungrudgingly,  gal- 
lantly, believing  that  when  the  great  day  of  understanding 
came  he  would  be  glad  of  it. 

But  he  loved  Andree  well,  and  the  other  man  was  his 
friend.  And  he  was  human  as  all  strong  men  of  flesh  and 
blood  and  temper  are  human.  Morning  caught  him  walk- 
ing still,  with  his  fight  half-fought  and  the  future  yet  dim 
and  cold  before  him.  For  he  loved  Andree.  He  loved  her 
at  this  moment  better  than  his  God;  and  it  was  his  friend 
who  had  taken  her  from  him. 

For  Tempest  the  next  day  was  filled  with  the  ordinary 
routine  of  the  post.  There  was  the  inspection  of  the  bar- 


"IL   M'AIME,   JE    VOUS   DIS "         265 

racks,  of  the  stables,  of  the  prisoners.  There  were  com- 
plaints to  listen  to  from  one  and  rebukes  to  be  adminis- 
tered to  another.  There  was  a  consultation  with  Poley 
concerning  the  amount  of  food  consumed  in  the  cells  and 
in  the  mess-room;  there  were  orders  to  give  to  Kennedy 
and  to  Dick.  And  there  were  the  dull  hours  of  clerical 
work;  checking  accounts,  formulating  reports;  examining 
receipts  and  bills  from  the  Hudson  Bay  on  orders  drawn 
in  favour  of  some  Indian  perhaps  six  months  back  and 
six  hundred  miles  away.  These  latter  often  necessitated 
the  turning  up  of  old  diaries  and  note-books,  and  usually 
Tempest  called  in  Dick  to  aid  him  here. 

But  he  could  not  bear  those  keen  eyes  and  that  assertive 
presence  to-day.  He  sent  Dick  out  to  investigate  the  com- 
plaint of  a  settler  who  had  missed  two  sacks  of  oats  from 
his  barn,  and  he  ground  his  way  through  his  labours  alone, 
with  Kennedy  doing  his  prisoner-patrol  in  the  back-yard, 
and  Poley  whistling  unmusically  as  he  clumsily  handled 
his  pans  and  kettles  in  the  kitchen. 

Poley  was  of  the  breed  of  whom  it  is  said  that  they 
"  come  from  the  Devil  knows  where,  and  are  bound  for 
the  same  place."  Some  under-tug  of  his  life  had  beached 
him  to  Grey  Wolf,  and  a  curious  grumbling  love  for  Tem- 
pest had  kept  him  there.  He  rolled  up  the  passage  now, 
and  hammered  on  Tempest's  door  with  his  foot,  his  hands 
being  otherwise  occupied.  Tempest  halted  his  pen  on  a 
long  column  of  figures  to  bid  him  enter,  and  Poley  ap- 
peared, balancing  a  bowl  of  steaming  soup  on  a  square 
lump  of  bread.  He  had  not  treated  Tempest  with  added 
deference  since  his  promotion  because,  having  predicted  it 
for  so  long,  he  naturally  took  much  of  the  credit  of  its  oc- 
currence to  himself. 

"  Ye  had  no  supper  las'  night,"  he  said,  and  put  the 
bowl  down  on  the  table.  "  Ner  yer  didn't  sleep  any,  I 
guess.  Where  are  yer  at,  Inspector?  That  sort  o'  game 
kin  put  a  man  away  quicker'n  anything.  Now,  you  go 
right  ahead  an'  git  outsider  that,  for  I'll  bet  yer  breakfus' 
ain't  lef  yer  wi'  much  to  yer." 

Tempest  looked  up  at  the  red,  rough  old  face,  and  the 
rheumy  blue  eyes.  A  long,  lonely  life  had  not  soured  the 
milk  of  human  kindness  in  Poley,  and  this  knowledge  hap- 


266  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

pened  to  be  the  very  thing  needful  for  Tempest  just  now. 

He  accepted  both  the  votive  and  the  hidden  offerings 
gratefuly,  and  he  did  not  pour  the  soup  from  the  window 
nor  scatter  the  bread  to  the  few  hungry  birds  until  Po- 
ley's  harsh  piping  whistle  was  raised  in  the  kitchen  quar- 
ters again.  And  when  he  settled  back  to  his  work  the 
cloud  on  his  face  was  lightened.  Although  it  had  only 
made  a  yellow-ochre  patch  in  the  snow  outside,  Poley's 
soup  had  strengthened  Tempest's  heart  quite  as  fully  as 
the  old  man  ever  intended  it  to  strengthen  his  stomach. 

It  was  still  evening,  with  a  red  sun  dropping  through  a 
clear  sky  when  Dick  came  into  make  his  report.  He  was 
cold  and  invigorated  and  cheerful,  and  he  struck,  more 
strongly  than  usual,  the  life-note  which  Tempest  felt  to  be 
slackening  in  himself.  And  yet  in  him  it  had  once  been 
the  strongest. 

Dick  gave  his  report  succinctly,  standing  tall  against 
the  window-light. 

"Morgan  missed  those  sacks  yesterday  morning,"  he 
said.  "  But  of  course  he  thought  to-day  time  enough  to 
let  us  know,  after  they  had  churned  the  snow  up  all  round 
in  order  to  obliterate  all  they  might  want  to  find  out.  For- 
tunately they  hadn't  gone  beyond  the  place  where  they 
water  the  horses,  and  I  tracked  my  man  through  there,  and 
followed  up  to  that  Cree  camp  at  Dog  Point.  There  I 
found  the  corner  of  a  new  burnt  sack  being  chewed  by  a 
gidde,  and  an  old  horse  belonging  to  Double-Toed  Pigeon 
which  looked  as  if  he  had  lately  been  assisting  at  a  blow- 
out. They  didn't  want  to  tell  me  anything  about  it."  He 
paused  a  moment.  "  The  man  is  Job  Kesikaw — down  at 
the  Reserve." 

"  Oh,  well,  I  was  wanting  to  see  the  man  myself."  A 
sudden  impulse  came  over  Tempest;  a  sudden  warmth 
towards  the  man  opposite.  "  I'll  go  down  with  you  after 
supper,"  he  said.  "  It's  full  moon.  Tell  Poley  he  can  put 
it  forward  a  little,  but  not  too  much,  and  I'll  have  mine 
here  to  save  time.  But  I  have  to  see  Holland  first.  He 
was  complaining  about  the  man  who  is  renting  his  river- 
lot" 

Dick  gave  the  order  to  Poley,  and  flung  himself  into  the 
big  chair  in  the  mess-room  to  doze  and  warm  himself  until 


"IL    M'AIME,   JE    VOUS    DIS  "          267 

supper  came  in.  Something  in  Tempest's  voice  made  him 
uneasy,  and  brought  up  sternly  in  his  mind  again  the 
knowledge  which  he  had  been  avoiding  with  all  his  strength. 
He  faced  that  knowledge  to-night  in  his  usual  clear-sight- 
edness, and  it  made  him  wince. 

He  had  gone  into  this  game  with  Andree  in  the  primal 
direct  motive  of  taking  her  from  Tempest  since  he  could 
not  take  Tempest  from  her.  He  had  lost  sight  of  that 
motive  long  since.  His  primal  idea  now  was  to  amuse 
himself.  He  did  not  love  Andree.  Jennifer  had  all  his 
heart,  and  she  always  would  have  it.  But  Andree's  beauty 
attracted  him,  and  her  wild  spirit  struck  a  flame  from  the 
like  thing  in  himself.  He  did  not  love  Andree,  but  he  was 
losing  Jennifer  for  her.  She  was  dulling  memory  of  Jen- 
nifer's pure  high  thoughts  and  words.  He  had  not  writ- 
ten to  Jennifer  lately,  and  well  he  knew  why.  And  An- 
dree was  losing  him  Tempest.  She  was  destroying  in  him 
the  power  to  say  to  Tempest,  "  I  did  this  for  you  alone." 
She  was  destroying  in  him  the  power  to  help  Tempest 
along  that  road  which  he  should  travel,  and,  by  so  doing, 
it  might  be  that  Tempest  would  never  take  that  road.  He 
knew  Tempest's  nature  so  well.  That  fine,  nervous,  excit- 
able temperament  could  be  so  easily  broken  by  certain 
things ;  so  easily  battered  down  on  its  knees.  Dick  did  not 
believe  that  Tempest  would  ever  go  lower  than  his  knees. 
But  he  would  stay  there,  bowing  his  head  in  his  repent- 
ance. He  would  take  the  lower  place  for  ever,  when  Na- 
ture and  the  world  ordained  him  for  the  higher. 

And  Dick  was  daily  stripping  from  himself  the  right  to 
help  Tempest  to  take  that  higher  place.  He  was  doing 
more.  He  was  prolonging  the  torment  which  he  had  set 
out  to  end.  Any  time  in  the  last  three  months  he  could 
have  brought  this  to  a  crisis  for  Tempest.  Any  time  be- 
fore the  last  month — perhaps  the  last  six  weeks,  he  could 
have  said  honestly  to  Tempest,  "  I  am  doing  this  for  you." 
He  could  not  say  that  now.  He  was  afraid  to  tell  Tem- 
pest now,  because  there  were  no  honest  words  which  he 
could  use.  He  was  dishonourable;  a  traitor  to  his  friend, 
and  he  knew  it.  And  yet  self  had  sapped  the  will  in  him 
for  so  long  that  he  coiild  not  resist  it.  Jennifer  and  Tem- 
pest meant  many  thousand  times  more  to  him  than  An- 


268  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

tlnr's  kisses.  But  he  would  not  forego  those  kisses.  Al- 
most he  felt  that  he  could  not.  He  did  not  blind  himself 
here.  He  had  deliberately  slacked  in  himself  the  forces 
which  would  have  fought  for  him  against  temptation,  and 
now  he  had  to  suffer  for  it.  And  he  did  suffer.  He  had 
been  so  eager  to  do  what  seemed  to  him  one  of  the  real  un- 
selfish things  of  his  life,  for  he  had  known  that  he  might 
lose  Tempest's  friendship  through  it.  He  had  known  that 
Jennifer  might  hear  garbled  tales. 

Well,  he  would  lose  Tempest's  friendship — when  Tem- 
pest found  out.  And  Jennifer  might  hear  tales — and  he 
could  not  deny  them.  He  smiled  in  that  bitter  humour 
which  seldom  forsook  him.  He  had  tried  to  play  the  hon- 
est man;  the  unselfish  friend.  In  his  hands  it  had  turned 
to  this  already,  and  what  it  might  turn  to  in  the  future  he 
did  not  care  to  think.  But,  as  had  happened  to  him  so 
many  times  in  his  life,  he  had  seen  the  good  all  the  way 
through,  and  had  done  the  wrong. 

Poley  came  in  clattering  with  the  lamp  and  the  tray, 
and  Dick  got  up  and  went  to  his  room.  Kennedy  was 
there,  writing  a  letter  with  stiff,  cold  fingers.  He  looked 
up  with  his  ruddy  boyish  face  perplexed. 

"  How  do  you  spell  niece?  "  he  asked. 

Dick  gave  the  information.  Then  he  looked  at  the  lad. 
Kennedy  was  such  a  frank-hearted,  honest  fellow,  and  he 
hoped  that  none  of  the  hottest  fires  of  life  would  ever  sear 
him. 

"Whose  niece  is  she,  Kennedy?"  he  asked.  But  Ken- 
nedy's brow  was  calm. 

"  My  own,"  he  said.  "  I've  got  a  married  sister.  I  sent 
the  kiddie  a  Christmas  present  from  her  Uncle  Jack.  My, 
I  just  know  how  her  eyes'll  stick  out  when  she  gets  it." 

Dick  left  him  chewing  his  pen-handle  and  chuckling, 
and  ran  down  again.  From  his  own  room  Tempest  heard 
him  pass  along  the  passage,  and  he  halted  a  moment  in  the 
putting  on  of  his  riding  gear.  His  eyes  were  dark  with 
the  struggle  that  had  grown  more  fierce  in  Dick's  pres- 
ence. He  had  not  won  out  yet.  For  all  his  knowledge,  all 
his  training,  all  his  belief,  all  his  strength  he  had  not  yet 
won  the  staying  point.  Because  the  staying  point  needs 
such  infinitely  deeper  anchorage  than  the  arriving  point, 


"IL   M'AIME,   JE    VOUS   DIS "         269 

by  reason  of  the  constant  ebb  and  flow  of  a  man's  will. 

The  night  was  silver-white  where  a  full  moon  flooded 
the  earth,  and  the  keen  crystal  air  seemed  to  prickle  like 
champagne.  Over  the  hard  snow  along  these  beaten  trails 
the  horses  swung  easily,  and  the  men  rode  side  by  side, 
speaking  little.  For  each  man  his  own  thoughts  were  full 
enough  company.  On  the  edge  of  the  moonlight  the  first 
shacks  of  the  Reserve  showed,  low  and  darkly.  Naked 
scrub  and  undergrowth  made  scratchy  shadows  to  the  very 
doors,  and  like  shadows  too,  a  handful  of  Indian  dogs 
flicked  out,  leaping  and  barking  and  rolling  in  the  snow. 
A  sore-withered  pony  raised  its  head;  then  returned  to  its 
investigations  among  the  bare  twigs,  and  where  a  red  fire 
darkened  the  forest  to  ink  a  few  women  moved  with  the 
light  trembling  on  their  black  hair  and  eyes  and  dull  stuff 
dresses.  For,  to  the  partially  civilised  Indian  woman, 
bright  colours  are  a  reproach.  They  make  her  appear 
"  too  Indian." 

Not  many  men  stayed  on  the  Reserve  through  the  win- 
ter. But  Christmas  had  brought  some  of  them  in,  and 
among  those  Dick  expected  to  find  Job  Kesikaw.  They 
halted  by  the  woman,  and  Clouds-of-Sunrise  glanced  up 
from  her  work  of  spitting  moose-meat  on  sharp  sticks  for 
the  roasting,  and  her  broad,  high-boned  face  was  lit  with 
humour. 

"  Had  no  meat  for  t'e  veek,"  she  said.  "  I  vas  s'pose 
some  men  come — eat  it  up  for  us !  " 

"  Why,"  said  Dick,  "  what  have  Peter  and  Mike  and 
Eusta  been  doing?  All  at  the  hunting,  eh?  And  wouldn't 
Eusta  take  you  this  time  ?  " 

Clouds-of-Morning  had  been  at  the  Mission  School  long 
enough  to  understand  more  English  than  she  spoke.  She, 
giggling,  looking  on  the  other  women  who  stood  about  in 
beaming  approval. 

"  All  to  hunt,"  she  said.     "  Akonaqui  kill  him." 

She  pointed  from  a  girl  with  the  lean,  eager  face  of  a 
hunter  to  the  moose-meat,  and  the  women  grunted  their 
acquiescence,  watching  the  white  men  with  the  giggles 
and  rallying  coquetry  of  a  company  of  school-girls. 

"  Our  man's  not  here,"  said  Tempest  underbreath,  and 
Dick  nodded. 


270  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

"  We'll  find  him  at  Sebompa's,  I  expect/'  he  said,  and 
they  rode  on;  taking  the  narrow  twisting  trails  through 
the  white  woods  with  accurate  knowledge  of  their  intrica- 
cies; hearing  Indian  talk  that  carried  far  through  the  si- 
lence, and  seeing,  all  about,  the  winking  lights  of  the  fires 
outside  the  shacks  and  tepees.  In  a  trail  they  passed  an 
old  Indian,  bent  double,  and  stumbling  over  the  snow  by 
help  of  a  stick.  His  tall  son  strode  beside  him,  dragging 
a  hand-sled,  and  both  greeted  the  Policemen  with  the 
frankness  of  men  who  know  their  friends.  Tempest  halted, 
speaking  in  his  broken  Cree-French. 

"  Is  Tommy  Joseph  hunting  this  season,  Selok  ?  "  he 
asked,  and  the  old  man  groaned,  swaying  his  shaggy  head 
until  the  white  hair  covered  his  face. 

The  son  looked  his  disapproval.  Tommy  Joseph  was 
own  brother  to  him,  but  that  was  no  reason  why  his  father 
should  show  emotion. 

"  Him  seeck  away  to  Chipewyan,"  he  said.  "  Go  die 
soon,  me  t'ink." 

"What  made  him  sick?"  asked  Tempest,  and  the  old 
man  groaned  again. 

"  Him  chase  Job  Kesikaw  in  canoe.  Git  in  brule  upset. 
Too  col'.  Seek  in  'tomach.  Goo'bye." 

"  Where  is  Job  Kesikaw  ?  "  asked  Dick  idly. 

"No  can  tell.  Some  place  roun'  'bout."  The  young 
man  spread  his  hands  to  the  universe.  "  No  talk  wit* 
heem." 

Lights  grew  closer  as  they  followed  that  winding  trail. 
In  all  that  great  Reserve,  where  each  of  the  wild  men  can 
live  his  own  wild  life  unmolested  if  he  so  desire,  there  were 
some  who  desired  the  contact  of  their  fellows;  making  a 
scattered  village,  built  without  method  or  meaning  of  any 
sort,  along  the  throat  of  a  coulee  where  little  running 
streams  gave  water  in  the  summer  and  the  high  walls  made 
a  natural  corral  for  the  horses.  Out  of  the  dark,  away 
from  the  distant  blinking  lights  that  spelt  homes,  Dick 
and  Tempest  rode  up  the  coulee  where  the  knots  of  shacks 
and  tepees  thickened;  where  the  half-savage  dogs  swarmed 
noisily  around  them,  and  the  camp-fires  were  big  and  lurid, 
shooting  tongues  of  flame  against  the  sky. 

Men  were  here  in  numbers;  smoking  lazily  about  the* 


"IL    M'AIME,   JE   VOUS   DIS "         271 

fires,  or  working  until  the  busy  women  round  the  pots  and 
spits,  where  meat  sizzled,  should  call  them  to  feed.  Chil- 
dren ran  about  clad  in  furs  or  in  thick  long-trousered  or 
long-frocked  garments  from  Miss  Chubb's  bale-room.  One 
fat  yellow-brown  urchin,  in  a  skin  shirt  and  scanty 
drawers,  anchored  by  one  suspender,  stood  sheer  in  the 
firelight  and  spat  at  them.  A  hand  of  correction  reached 
out  of  the  dark,  and  withdrew  him  bodily,  and  after-sounds 
told  that  reproof  had  not  stopped  there.  The  men  of  the 
North-West  Mounted  Police  understood  that  they  were 
herewith  greeted  as  friends. 

On  the  Grey  Wolf  Reserve  were  chiefly  Crees  and  Bea- 
vers who  accepted  the  white  man's  protection  and  took 
Treaty  payments  to  prove  it.  But  there  were  some  breeds 
also  who  had  reverted  to  the  call  of  the  Indian  blood  which 
was  in  them,  and  it  was  among  the  latter  that  Job  Kesikaw 
was  rated.  In  the  eternally-shifting  crowds  along  the 
river-ways  Dick  and  Tempest  had  probably  seen  Job  more 
than  once;  but  he  was  one  of  the  weed-rack  of  earth,  drift- 
ing ever. 

"  And  I've  never  located  him  yet,"  said  Dick  to  his  brain, 
and  ran  his  quick  eye  round  the  half-seen  groups.  "  And 
fancy  the  description  I've  got  from  old  The-Back-of-To- 
morrow  won't  help  me  at  all." 

He  went  over  that  description  internally.  It  suggested 
Job  as  a  stocky,  clumsy  man  of  middle  height;  bull-necked 
and  bull-strong;  sinewed  like  a  wolf,  and  with  the  eyes 
of  a  wolf;  dark  as  the  earth  where  the  moss  grows,  and 
cunning,  and  greasily  fat. 

There  were  at  least  ten  men  within  sight  who  filled  that 
picture,  line  on  line.  One  was  lacing  the  corded  sinews 
through  a  half-made  snowshoe  with  his  heavy  face  intent 
on  the  crossing  of  each  mesh.  Two  more,  on  their  knees 
by  the  fire,  were  charring  lengths  of  pliant  green  wood 
into  the  angles  of  sled-runners.  Yet  another  sliced  raw 
moose-hide  into  slender  strips  for  tie  or  snowshoe  thongs. 
Sheer  in  the  fire-glow  a  young  muscular  breed  was  pegging 
out  the  skin  of  a  wolverine  on  a  flat  board.  He  grinned  at 
Dick  in  swift  delight. 

"  Huh !  You  Carcajou,"  he  said.  "  You  no  git  you  man 
kill,  is  it  not?" 


372  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

Dick  recognised  this  reference  to  Robison  whom  a  se- 
vere attack  of  pneumonia  had  so  far  salvaged  from  the 
gallows.  He  slid  out  of  the  saddle,  and  shook  hands  with 
the  breed  cheerfully. 

"  Aha/'  he  said.  "  Him  gone  sick.  But  by-an'-bye  him 
get  well  again.  Then  they  punish  him  down  in  Fort  Sas- 
katchewan, Beaver  Tail." 

He  was  looking  on  the  other  men  as  he  spoke,  and  across 
the  face  of  him  who  sliced  the  moose-hide  he  saw  fear  flicker 
and  darken.  An  almost  imperceptible  motion  of  his  hand 
brought  Tempest  to  the  ground  also,  and  then  Dick  went 
on  with  his  salutations. 

Many  of  the  men  were  known  to  him,  and  he  shook 
hands  with  each,  asking  the  names  of  those  he  did  not 
know.  The  breeds  were  laughing,  entering  into  the  game 
with  the  joyousness  of  children,  and  at  the  cooking-fires 
where  the  smell  of  meat  was  thick  and  warm,  women 
halted  in  their  labours,  watching  the  two  clean-run  white 
men  in  their  close  uniforms  with  admiring  curiosity. 

Dick  stopped  before  the  man  whose  hands  were  red  and 
greasy  with  the  hide. 

"  I  guess  I'm  the  friend  of  all  here,"  he  said,  and  held 
his  hand  out.  "  But  I  don't  know  your  name,  my  friend." 

Someone  piped  it  out.  And  then  Job  Kesikaw,  thrust- 
ing out  his  paw  reluctantly,  felt  himself  seized  in  a  sud- 
den trap-like  grip,  and  heard  the  new  note  in  Dick's 
voice. 

"  I  want  you,  Job  Kesikaw,"  he  said,  and  Job  sprang 
back,  jerking  free  with  the  full  weight  of  his  body. 

Dick's  grasp  was  strong,  but  the  greasy  hand  slid  from 
it.  Job  turned  and  dived  into  the  darkness,  whipping  up 
his  rifle  as  he  fled.  And  into  the  dark,  close  on  his  heels, 
leapt  Dick  and  Tempest. 

"  Wah !  Wah !  "  said  Beaver  Tail,  astonished  and  inter- 
ested. The  men  around  him  grunted;  looked  at  each  other 
doubtfully  for  a  little  space,  and  then  fell  to  their  work 
again. 

Principally  they  were  amazed  at  the  audacity  of  Job  in 
defying  the  Big  Law.  Partly  they  were  amused  and  con- 
temptuous; and  partly,  in  virtuous  knowledge  of  their  own 
presumably  clean  sheets,  they  arraigned  him  mercilessly  in 


^IL    M'AIME,    JE    VOUS    DIS "          273 

that  he  had  brought  himself  under  the  terror  of  that  law. 

"  Him  done  some  dam  follishness,  me  s'pose,"  said 
Beaver  Tail,  laying  the  pegged  skin  aside.  "  Huh !  What 
him  want  run  from  Carcajou,  anyway?  T'ink  him  no 
catch  ?  Huh !  " 

"  Huh !  "  said  the  chorus  of  derision  out  of  the  dark,  and 
appeared  to  lose  outward  interest  in  the  fate  of  Job. 

Ahead  of  the  two  men,  through  the  forest,  Job's  prog- 
ress seemed  to  make  the  dark  roar  with  sound.  Sticks 
snapped,  and  crashed;  branches  whipped  back  as  the  great 
body  hurled  itself  through  them  and  the  white  men  fol- 
lowed; catching  the  slashing  twigs  across  their  faces; 
stabbed  by  a  broken  stick;  stumbling,  jumping,  climbing, 
pushing  ever  through  the  tangling  growth,  burst  apart  by 
the  man  ahead,  and  clogged  by  the  soft  snow. 

Job  was  evilly  fat  and  short  of  wind.  The  white  men 
were  muscle-hard  and  lean  with  the  strenuous  work  of  the 
summer.  Job  heard  them  gaining,  and  in  a  clearing  where 
the  white  moon  light  was  sharp  on  the  white  ground,  he 
halted,  turned,  and  flung  his  rifle  up.  Dick  heard  the 
bullet  whistle  as  he  ducked,  still  running.  He  heard  the 
trigger  click  again ;  and  then  Tempest's  weight  bore  on  him, 
swinging  him  aside,  and  Tempest  fired,  even  in  the  moment 
when  he  fell. 

Dick  had  no  time  to  understand  that  Tempest  had  pos- 
sibly given  one  life  to  save  the  other.  He  scrambled  up, 
feeling  the  sandy  snow  grit  in  his  ungloved  hands,  and 
rushed  in  on  Job  without  taking  breath.  Job's  trigger- 
arm  swung  loose  from  the  elbow,  and  Dick  was  glad.  He 
looked  on  the  big  man  sitting  in  the  snow  and  crying  like  a 
frightened  baby,  and  then  he  looked  on  the  other  man  ly- 
ing still  in  the  moonlight. 

"  I  fancy  you'll  wait  till  I'm  ready  to  strap  that,"  he 
said,  and  ran  over  to  Tempest's  side. 

How  or  when  he  knew  it  he  could  not  tell.  But  he  un- 
derstood why  Tempest  had  taken  the  bullet  which  should 
have  been  his.  Tempest  knew  this  thing  which  Dick  had 
done  to  him ;  and  because  Dick  had  exacted  the  sacrifice  of 
his  love,  Tempest,  following  Biblical  methods,  had  offered 
his  life  also.  Not  even  in  the  first  moment  did  he  do  Tem- 
pest the  dishonour  of  thinking  that  he  had  sought  a  way 


274  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

for  himself  out  of  this  trouble.  He  knew  the  spirit  of  the 
man  too  well  for  that.  And  he  knew  also  that,  if  Tempest 
lived,  the  thing  which  he  had  to  say  to  him  was  going  to  be 
infinitely  more  terrible  than  he  had  expected  it  to  be. 

There  was  blood  on  Tempest's  face  and  in  his  hair. 
Dick  wiped  it  off  and  found  the  bullet-graze  on  the  temple 
which  had  stunned  him.  He  sat  back  with  a  breath  of  re- 
lief and  pulled  out  his  flask.  It  was  empty,  as  it  had 
been  too  many  times  of  late,  and  Dick  felt  the  burn  of 
shame  as  he  tilted  it.  Tempest  had  no  flask,  and  so  Dick 
flung  snow  over  the  still  face;  softening  it  first  by  the 
warmth  of  his  hands.  Presently  Tempest  shivered,  feel- 
ing the  icy  air  strike  into  him.  Across  the  snow  Job  was 
wailing  and  shuddering  with  chattering  teeth.  Then  Tem- 
pest sat  up  with  Dick's  aid;  sick  and  giddy,  and  stupidly 
feeling  the  blood  than  ran  on  his  face.  He  seemed  fully 
as  ashamed  as  Dick  himself  of  the  thing  which  he  had 
done;  and,  by  consent,  both  ignored  causes  and  spoke 
only  of  effects  as  Dick  washed  the  skin  round  the  wound 
and  bound  it  up  with  torn  handkerchiefs.  He  had  to  use 
a  piece  of  his  shirt  when  he  came  to  Job,  and  the  man 
wept  aloud  at  the  stout  and  effective  tournoquet,  and  at  the 
winding  of  the  broken  limb  into  a  hastily-stripped  cradle 
of  birch-bark. 

"  I  guess  you've  lost  enough  blood  to  cool  that  courage 
of  yours,"  remarked  Dick,  dragging  him  up  to  his  feet. 
"  Now,  show  us  the  way  back  to  camp.  You  should  know 
these  trails  better  than  I  do." 

Both  Dick's  patients  were  staggering  with  weakness 
when  they  reached  the  camp,  and  it  was  an  hour  later  when 
they  took  the  trail  to  Grey  Wolf;  Tempest  riding  a  little 
behind,  silent,  and  somewhat  giddy  still,  and  Dick  two 
yards  ahead,  with  Job  Kesikaw  on  the  lame  Indian  pony 
at  his  knee.  The  moon  was  gone,  but,  for  the  first  time  in 
several  months,  the  Northern  Lights  pulsed  in  the  sky, 
in  long  direct  streamers,  lividly-blue  and  pure.  They 
hung  the  forest-trees  with  a  dim,  unearthly  sheen,  and  in 
the  light  of  it  Dick  saw  the  night  animals  pass  and  pass 
again,  without  sound.  There  was  little  pleasure  to  Dick 
in  that  ride  home.  He  was  thinking  grimly  of  what  would 
have  to  be  said  on  the  morrow.  But  over  Tempest  a  curi- 


"IJ,    M'AIME,    JE    VOUS    DIS "          275 

ous  hush  and  a  deep  content  had  descended.  He  could 
forgive  now.  He  could  forgive,  because  he  had  given 
Dick's  life  back  to  him,  and  in  so  doing  he  had  given  him 
all  else. 

Cheerfully,  with  eyes  bright  and  head  up,  he  rode  home. 
For  all  his  strength  and  love  he  was  fitting  himself  to 
bring  that  offering  which  the  other  man — having  demanded 
and  obtained  of  him — must  throw  away. 


CHAPTER  XII 

•'•'  THE    THIEF    ON    THE    LEFT  " 

••DICK!" 

Tempest  called  from  his  bed-room ;  the  little  room  behind 
the  little  sitting  room  which  Dick  had  seldom  entered.  But 
Dick  came  to  the  door  now,  standing  still,  with  his  lips 
drawn  into  a  peculiar  smile. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  said,  and  Tempest  turned  from  the  dressing- 
table. 

"  Come  in,  and  shut  the  door,  old  man/'  he  said.  And 
Dick  came  in.  His  chance  to  explain  this  matter,  con- 
vincingly and  pleasantly,  was  for  now. 

Except  for  a  square  of  black  plaster  above  the  sun- 
burnt line  across  his  temple,  Tempest  showed  no  signs 
of  last  night's  happenings.  His  voice  was  warm  and 
strong,  and  his  eyes  smiled. 

"  You've  had  a  busy  day,"  he  said.  "  But  I  haven't 
been  idle,  either.  About  half  a  dozen  fellows  have  come 
in  for  moral  support  of  some  kind." 

"  Yes  ?  You  will  always  find  plenty  who  will  tie  up  to 
you  for  repairs." 

"  Except  you."  Tempest  shifted  the  brushes  on  the 
dressing-table  slowly.  "  You've  gone  your  own  pernicious 
way,  you  old  sinner,  while — if  you'd  had  the  honesty  to 
speak  to  me,  there'd  have  been  no  need  for — all  this." 

Even  the  cynicism  ingrained  in  him  could  not  help  Dick 
just  now.  He  loved  Tempest  too  well. 

"  I  had  forgotten  that  men  expected  honesty  from  me," 
he  said.  "  What  is  it?  " 

"  Andree  has  told  me,"  said  Tempest  quietly.  "  That 
was  enough.  And  I  saw  those  paintings  of  yours  if  I  had 
needed  more  proof.  I  would  have  wished  you  hadn't  done 
them.  But  you  probably  didn't  guess  that  they  would  be 
made  public.  She's  not  mine  to  give  up,  now.  But  I  want 
you  to  know  that  if  she  was  I  could  give  her  up  to  you, 

276 


"THE    THIEF    ON    THE    LEFT"        277 

Dick.  Only — for  God's  sake  take  care  of  her,  for  she 
doesn't  know  the  meaning  of  life  yet." 

His  voice  was  low  and  steady.  The  ring  of  it  told  Dick 
that  Tempest  had  turned  his  face  to  the  heights  again,  and 
that  it  was  for  himself  to  call  the  man  back  into  a  hell 
which  he  did  not  care  to  think  of. 

"  You've  put  up  a  good  fight,"  said  Tempest,  and  he 
suddenly  lifted  his  eyes  and  smiled.  "  Don't  think  I 
haven't  noticed  what  you've  looked  like  lately.  But  na- 
ture has  been  too  strong  for  you  both — and  all  a  man  in  my 
position  can  do  is  to  give  way  gracefully.  I  hope  I  can 
do  that.  I've  got  my  work — and  I've  got  my  friend.  So 
you  can  go  into  action  with  a  clear  conscience,  old  man," 
he  added,  and  held  his  hand  out. 

Dick  did  not  take  it.  He  backed  away  with  his  face 
white. 

"  You're  all  wrong,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I  don't  want 
her." 

Tempest's  eyes  were  shining  and  over  his  whole  body 
glowed  that  something  which  made  Dick  remember  the 
idiotic  girl  and  the  Sun-treader. 

"  There's  no  need  of  lies  between  you  and  I,  Dick,"  he 
said  gently. 

"  It  is  not  a  lie."  Dick  moistened  his  lips  and  flung 
out  the  words  savagely.  "  She  was  ruining  your  life  and 
she  had  to  come  out  of  it.  So  I  took  her  out  of  it.  You'll 
never  get  her  again.  But  I  don't  want  her.  I  never  did 
want  her.  But  she  was  ruining  you." 

The  bald  brutality  of  each  word  struck  him  as  he  spoke 
it.  But  the  thing  had  to  be  said,  and  no  words  conceived 
by  man  could  soften  it.  And  therefore  he  did  not  try. 
Tempest  looked  at  him.  His  face  was  blank,  like  that  of 
a  man  in  sleep. 

"  Will  you  please  say  that  again — all  of  it?  "  he  said 
slowly. 

Dick  said  it  again.  He  said  it  in  the  same  words 
because  they  seemed  to  ring  in  the  air  yet.  And 
besides,  there  were  no  others.  Tempest  gave  a  little 
sigh.  His  hand  strayed  among  the  brushes  on  the 
dressing-table. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  don't  understand,"  he  said.     "  There's  no 


278  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

need  for  this.  I  have  told  you  that  I  don't  mean  to  be  a 
barrier  to  your  marriage." 

"  I  am  not  going  to  marry  her/'  said  Dick. 

The  life  came  back  to  Tempest's  face  in  one  white  ter- 
rible flash. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  he  said. 

"  What  I  say.  She  is  not  fit  for  you.  I  told  you  so 
long  ago.  Now  I  have  proved  it." 

"  Proved  it?  " 

"  She  is — nothing,"  said  Dick.  "  I  could  do  what  I 
liked  with  her.  So  could  any  man  who  took  the  trouble 
to  flatter  her.  She  is — just  that!" 

He  snapped  his  fingers,  looking  straight  at  the  man  op- 
posite. This  was  not  at  all  the  way  in  which  he  had  meant 
to  speak.  But  softer  words  were  too  foreign  to  him. 
They  would  not  come. 

"  You  say  you  have  proved  it."  Tempest's  mind  tra- 
velled slowly  through  this  blinding  fire.  "  How  have  you 
proved  it?  " 

"  Before  God,  Tempest " 

"Leave  God  out.     How  have  you  proved  it?  " 

"  I  have  flattered  her.  That  was  bait  enough  to  take  her 
from  you.  She  never  loved  you,  and  she  doesn't  love  me. 
She  loves  nothing  but  her  own  selfish  body — she  hasn't  got 
a  soul." 

"  You  said  you  could  do  what  you  liked  with  her.  What 
have  you  liked  to  do  ?  " 

The  tone  was  perfectly  level,  but  there  was  a  thread  in 
it  which  thrilled  Dick.  Had  he  saved  this  soul  for  which 
he  had  soiled  his  own,  or  were  they  both  going  down  pres- 
ently together  into  the  night? 

"  I  have  kissed  her,"  said  Dick.  "  That  is  all.  I  didn't 
care  to  do  more  or  I  could  have  done  it." 

"  You  didn't  care  to  do  more."  Tempest  looked  away 
at  the  glass;  did  not  seem  to  recognise  the  face  reflected 
there,  and  looked  away  again.  "  Why  did  you  not  care 
to  do  more?  "  he  asked. 

Dick's  self-control  was  breaking. 

'  Because  I'm  not  such  a  brute  as  you  try  to  make  me 
out,"  he  said.  "  I  meant  to  save  you.  That's  why." 


"THE    THIEF    ON    THE    LEFT "        279 

"  To  save  me  ?  "  Tempest's  laugh  was  a  queer  little 
catch  in  the  throat.  "  To  save  me !  " 

"  She  has  broken  up  other  men  before  she  ever  saw  you, 
and  she  will  keep  on  doing  it.  Once  you're  free  of  her 
and  see  her  as  other  men  see  her " 

"  You  mean — as  men  like  you  have  caused  other  men  to 
see  her!  " 

The  white  flame  leapt  out  in  Tempest's  voice  for  an  in- 
stant. Then  it  died.  Dick  breathed  unevenly.  Tempest 
said: 

"  What  had  she  done  to  you?  " 

"  I  tell  you  she  was  spoiling  your " 

"  That  was  my  affair.  What  had  the  child  done  to  you 
that  you  should  do  this  to  her?  " 

The  ring  of  pain  in  the  words  turned  Dick  weak  for  a 
breath.  This  man  was  treading  where  he  could  never  fol- 
low. The  insult  to  himself;  the  cold  brutality  of  deed  and 
word ;  the  reason  which  now  seemed  no  more  than  imperti- 
nent interference — Tempest  had  passed  them  all  by  in  his 
protecting  thought  for  Andree. 

"  I  have  done  nothing  to  her."  Dick's  voice  was  low. 
"  One  could  not  hurt  her  except  physically." 

For  a  little  space  Tempest  was  silent.  But  Dick  felt 
the  force  gathering  behind  that  silence.  He  looked  at  the 
photographs  of  Tempest's  mother  and  sisters  on  the  wall, 
and  at  the  picture  of  Tempest's  old  home  in  Ontario  where 
he  had  spent  so  many  holidays  in  his  boyhood. 

"  She  loves  you,"  said  Tempest  at  last.  "  Won't  you 
take  that  into  account,  and  remember  her  needs  ?  " 

"  Your  own  love  has  blinded  you  there,  Tempest.  She 
does  not  love  me.  She  is  incapable  of  love.  And  she  does 
not  matter.  It  is  only  you  who  matter." 

"  She  loves  you.  And  you  have  taken  the  guarding  of 
her  life  out  of  my  hands  into  your  own.  There  is  no  god 
nor  devil  can  make  you  anything  but  responsible  for  that. 
At  the  first  I  think  she  could  have  cared — but  perhaps 
you  were  at  work  even  then.  What  are  you  going  to  do 
about  it  now  ?  " 

Dick  moistened  his  lips.  Fury,  such  as  was  common  to 
most  men  occasionally,  which  could  expend  itself  in  word 


280  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

and  movement,  was  an  infinitely  lesser  thing  than  this  ter- 
rible stillness. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  do  anything.  There  is  nothing  to 
do.  I  have  done  too  much,  and  I  am  not  here  to  excuse 
myself.  But  it  was  necessary " 

"  She  has  no  one.  And  she  loves  you.  Do  you  think  I 
could  mistake  there?  Won't  you  have  mercy  on  her  be- 
cause of  that?  " 

He  was  pleading  for  a  soul  dearer  to  him  than  his  own. 
Dick  knew  it;  and  knew  too  how  that  proud  self  which 
Tempest  was  now  trampling  in  the  dust  would  wake  pres- 
ently to  recognise  its  hurt. 

"  I  can  have  no  more  mercy  on  her  than  to  leave  her 
alone.  I  give  you  my  word  that  I  will  do  that.  But  I 
can't  do  more.  If  I  could  make  you  understand  that  it  had 
to  be  done  you  were  ruining  your  life " 

Tempest's  face  was  rigid,  even  to  the  eyes. 

"  What  is  that  to  you  ?  "  he  said.  "  You  who  ruined 
your  own  life  long  ago?  What  has  my  life  to  do  with  you? 
How  dared  you  interfere  with  my  life?  " 

"  Because  I  cared  for  you " 

"  You  liar !  "  Tempest's  low  level  tones  did  not  change. 
"  You  did  it  because  you  cared  for  your  own  amusement. 
You  did  it  because,  as  I  was  your  friend,  you  knew  that 
you  could  have  your  fun  and  I  would  never  suspect.  You 
did  it  because  you  do  not  know  how  to  live  an  honest  and 
honourable  life.  And  then  you  shield  yourself  behind  me. 
What  has  my  life  to  do  with  you?  I  am  responsible  to  my 
God  for  it — not  to  you." 

He  stood  very  still,  with  his  hand  on  the  table,  and  his 
eyes  never  left  Dick's  face.  Dick  was  whiter  than  Tem- 
pest, because  there  was  no  anger  in  him  to  harden  him; 
only  a  deep  grief  for  himself  and  for  this  man. 

"  Your  life  means  a  great  deal  to  me,  Tempest.  And 
to  Canada " 

"Ah?  To  Canada  also?"  The  little  sneer  was  not 
like  Tempest.  "  That  is  complimentary,  perhaps,  but  not 
convincing." 

"  Upon  my  honour " 

"  Again  complimentary,  but  not  convincing,"  said  Tem- 
pest. 


"THE    THIEF    ON    THE    LEFT "       281 

This  stung  Dick  into  action.  He  moved  forward  a 
step,  and  the  colour  came  back  to  his  face. 

"  Whether  you  like  or  don't  like/'  he  said,  "  you  shall 
hear  me  now.  You  shall  hear  what  I've  got  to  say,  and, 
by  God,  you  won't  forget  it.  For  I'm  speaking  truth,  and 
you  will  know  it's  truth.  I  have  never  taken  the  stand 
among  men  that  you  have.  I  did  not  want  to,  if  I  could 
have  done  it.  But  you  have  chosen  to  stand  where  you 
do  stand  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  You  have  chosen  to  be 
known  in  the  Force  and  far  beyond  it  as  a  man  whose 
judgment  and  whose  word  and  whose  advice  should  be 
trusted.  You  have  chosen  that  men  should  know  your 
opinions  and  should  know  that  you  walked  by  them.  You 
were  not  afraid  of  being  judged.  Perhaps  you  sometimes 
invited  judgment.  Can  you  deny  that?" 

Tempest  did  not  attempt  to.     His  face  had  not  changed. 

"  And  do  you  see  what  you  are  doing  now  ?  You  who 
allowed  yourself  to  be  considered  as  an  example?  Do  you 
see  what  you  have  done  now  that  you  have  put  your  name 
in  the  mouth  of  every  man  as  the  name  of  one  who  is 
eager  and  willing  to  sink  all  his  ideals,  all  the  weight 
of  his  influence,  all  his  power  for  the  gratification  of  what 
he  knows  to  be  the  lower — the  lowest  part  of  his  nature." 

Tempest's  lips  moved,  but  no  sound  came  from  them. 
His  face  was  changing  now. 

"  You  do  know  it ! "  Dick  hurled  the  words  at  him. 
"  And  you  shall  surely  know  what  you  have  done.  You 
are  committing  one  of  the  deadliest  of  sins,  because  you 
can't  fall  without  dragging  down  all  those  whom  you  have 
allowed  to  believe  in  you.  You  can't  fall  without  defiling 
all  that  truth  and  honour  and  virtue  which  you  have  chosen 
to  make  yourself  the  exponent  of.  You  chose  to  take  a 
high  place — I  don't  say  you  were  not  fit  for  it.  You  were. 
But  you  can't  leave  that  place  without  disgrace  to  more 
than  yourself.  You  have  chosen  to  wield  a  great  influence, 
and  now  you  are  choosing  to  betray  it.  You  say  you  are 
responsible  to  your  God.  What  is  your  God  going  to  say 
about  it?  The  virtues  that  you  are  making  a  bonfire  of 
are  popularly  supposed  to  belong  to  Him  in  the  first  place, 
aren't  they?  " 

He  stopped,  but  Tempest  made  no  sound,  no  movement. 


THE    LAW-BRIXGERS 

He  was  not  looking  at  Dick  now.  His  eves  went  straight 
part  to  the  window,  but  Dick  knew  that  he  was  looking  at 
fci^^lf  A  wave  of  remorse  swept  over  Dick.  He  was 
never  hart  by  the  roughest  handling.  But  Tempest  was 
of  such  different  material. 

"  Tempest " 

Tempest's  glance  brushed  across  his  for  a  moment. 
There  was  no  expression  in  it. 

"  You  can  go,"  he  said. 

"Tempest,  for  God's  sake  don't " 

"  Leave  God  out,"  said  Tempest.  "  I  told  you  that  be- 
fore. And  go.  I  told  you  that  too." 

Dick  went.  He  was  scarcely  through  the  door  when  he 
heard  Tempest  spring  to  it  and  lock  it.  And  then  there 
came  no  other  sound  at  all,  although  he  listened  for  a  long, 
long  while. 

Tempest  had  dropped  into  a  chair,  folding  his  arms  on 
the  back,  and  his  face  was  hidden  on  his  arm.  Xo  part 
of  him  seemed  alive  but  his  brain,  and  that  was  making 
rivid  blazing  realities  which  seemed  to  fill  up  earth  and 
sky.  It  was  true.  All  that  Dick  had  said  to  him  was 
true.  He  had  that  influence.  He  was  wielding  it  daily. 
He  could  not  lose  it.  What  was  he  doing  with  it?  God 
in  Heaven,  what  was  he  doing  with  it?  What  was  he  do- 
ing with  that  gospel  of  work  and  religion  and  duty  which 
he  had  called  men  to  hear  him  preach  ?  What  was  he  do- 
ing with  it — he  who  stood  for  the  high  standard  which  he 
had  set;  for  the  moral  and  physical  power  by  which  men 
knew  him:  he  who  had  not  hesitated  to  stand  in  his  own 
small  corner  for  Canada  herself? 

He  knew  what  he  was  doing  with  it.  Xow  that  Dick 
had  told  him  he  knew,  and  the  sweat  came  out  on  his  body 
as  he  recognised  it.  In  so  far  as  the  human  can  do  it  he 
was  making  a  mock  of  God  Himself.  He — Tempest !  And 
now  God  and  love  and  truth  had  made  a  mock  of  him. 
He  cowered  lower  over  his  chair,  and  he  stayed  there, 
scarcely  moving,  until  the  sounds  of  day  came  into  the 
world  beyond  the  door  again. 

That  night  was  an  uneasy  one  for  Dick  also.  He  rose 
early  and  went  down  to  the  yard  where  a  half-packed  sled 
Stood  with  the  dog-harness  slung  across  ft.  Silently  he 


"THE    THIEF    OX    THE    LETT" 

hauled  his  little  tent  from  where  it  hung  in  the  wood-shed 
and  beat  and  folded  it  into  shape  for  packing.  There  was 
a  stern-chase  on  a  week-old  trail  before  him,  and  he  was 
glad  of  it.  From  all  the  troubles  of  his  life  heretofore  he 
had  been  able  to  escape  down  the  windy  trails  of  the  world. 
But  this  time  he  would  not  leave  all  which  he  had  done 
behind  him. 

The  sure,  sturdy  note  of  winter  was  sounding  along  the 
land  when  he  and  the  young  breed  pulled  oat  that  day, 
heading  straight  into  space,  with  only  a  few  tangled  clues 
to  guide  them.  The  keen  air  tingled  the  blood  of  the 
forest-men;  making  them  restless  with  the  fret  of  it;  test- 
less  for  the  cry  of  the  trapped  yniyn^l  and  for  the  snow- 
laid  trails  and  the  bite  of  the  forest  on  their  faces.  The 
young  breed  opened  his  nostrils  to  the  snow-tang  as  he 
swung  along,  and  his  bright  eyes  roved.  Even  as  to  the 
other  man  these  wild  rimless  woods  were  his  home;  and 
he  laughed  and  swore  cheerfully  as  he  fed  the  thawed  fish 
to  the  dogs  for  their  evening  meal,  and  came  back  to  the 
fire,  grinning  still,  and  rubbing  his  hands. 

"  Yoila,"  he  said  gaily.  "  Mais  dat  vilain  Poley  kip 
dem  sharp  set.  Dey  do  wolf  deir  viande." 

"  Nothing  works  well  when  it  is  too  fat.  I  shall  have 
to  thin  you  down,  Passpartout,  I  think." 

"  Done !  It  is  to  laugh  mak'  me  fat."  He  threw  out 
a  great  bellow  from  his  chest.  "  No  one  can  help  dat," 
he  said. 

"  Don't  try,"  advised  Dick.  "  Everything  in  this  world 
really  is  funny,  isn't  it?  Even  those  things  which  a  ~m»n 
might  not  think  could  be  funny." 

"  Eh,  bien !  Good  enough.  Dere  is  tonjours  de  fun  an* 
dere  is  tou jours  de  nouvelle.  When  a  man  tire  of  one  ting, 
dere  is  de  nex'  place  to  trap,  an'  de  nex'  girl  to  like,  an'  de 
nex'  man  to  hit  if  so  he  wan'  to  hit.  Dere  is  plenty  tout 
le  temps." 

"Ah!  That  is  a  very  good  philosophy,  Passepartout." 
Dick  looked  up  at  the  bulky  grinning  young  fellow  in  the 
firelight.  "  All  things  are  new  so  long  as  the  man  hhnnrif 
is  new.  But  what  happens  when  he  gets  stale?" 

"  Je  na  sais  pas.  Him  like  bad  fish,  I  s'pose.  Feed 
him  to  de  dog." 


284  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"Oh!  Feed  him  to  the  dog?"  Dick  revolved  this  in 
silence  for  a  minute.  "  I  fancy  you  have  hit  a  greater 
truth  than  you  think,  Passpartout.  Throw  some  more 
wood  on,  and  rake  those  smoking  branches  in.  And  then 
you  can  go  to  sleep  as  soon  as  you  like." 

Passpartout  retired  into  his  wolf-skin  robe  even  as  Dick 
retired  into  his  thoughts  and  smoked.  And  those  thoughts 
were  not  entirely  bitter.  He  was  too  much  of  a  born 
tramp,  a  born  rover,  not  to  feel  the  exhilaration  of  his 
surroundings;  of  the  widespread  brooding  hush  of  the 
forest ;  the  heavy  dark  branches  against  the  stars ;  the  crisp, 
white  snow  about  him  and  the  smell  of  the  resinous  burning 
wood.  He  had  turned  many  pages  of  Life's  book  in  his 
time,  and  he  was  not  tired  of  turning  them  yet.  The  im- 
possibility of  turning  more,  even  though  they  had  all  been 
for  evil,  would  have  been  the  only  thing  which  could 
have  really  broken  the  restless  heart  in  him. 

Almost  at  the  moment  when  he  gave  that  stunning  blow 
to  Tempest  it  had  interested  him  to  find  out  how  the  man 
would  stand  under  it.  It  had  interested  him  to  find  that  he 
himself  could  speak  so  clearly  and  convincingly  on  a  mat- 
ter which  had  no  personal  meaning  for  him  except  in  so 
far  as  it  affected  Tempest.  It  interested  him  now  to  won- 
der if  there  was  any  truth  in  Tempest's  idea  that  Andree 
loved  him,  and  it  interested  him  quite  a  good  deal  to  won- 
der what  he  should  do  if  there  was.  To  examine  and  ob- 
serve and  dissect  everything,  even  his  own  soul  and  the 
souls  of  those  he  loved  best — this  was  what  had  come  to 
him  out  of  his  desire  to  see  life  clearly.  But  because  he 
had  to  examine  them  all  through  the  lens  of  his  own  mind 
what  he  saw  was  necessarily  distorted. 

His  very  love  and  reverence  for  Jennifer  were  spoiled 
by  the  belief  that  she  would  give  way  in  the  end.  Her 
creeds  would  not  be  proof  against  her  love,  any  more  than 
Tempest's  had  been.  By  and  by  she  would  let  his  hand 
break  the  thing  which  she  said  was  herself — the  self  he 
loved.  And  fiercely  though  he  wanted  her  now,  how  did 
he  know  that  he  would  always  want  her?  Change  was  the 
only  thing  which  never  tired  him;  the  new  was  the  only 
mate  he  always  met  with  gladness ;  the  elusive  and  the  un- 


"THE    THIEF    ON    THE    LEFT"       285 

certain  were  the  only  loves  he  had  ever  wanted  to  hold 
and  kiss.  This  wild  creed  which  he  had  taught  himself 
had  done  him  no  good.  But  he  could  not  fling  it  aside.  It 
did  not  seem  possible  now  that  Tempest  could  ever  give 
way  to  a  newer  friend;  Jennifer  to  a  newer  love.  And  yet 
such  things  had  been  his  experience  all  through  life.  Con- 
stancy is  more  an  ingrained  habit  than  a  natural  virtue,  and 
Dick  had  never  cultivated  habits. 

He  kicked  the  fire  together,  and  re-lit  his  pipe.  Oki- 
mow,  lying  near  his  feetr  looked  up,  then  buried  his  nose 
in  his  paws  again  witf  a  snort  of  comfort.  That  half- 
smile  in  the  man's  eyes  had  meant  nothing  to  him.  Be- 
cause he  had  no  soul  he  could  not  laugh  at  the  fears  and 
aspirations  of  that  soul. 

And  yet  Dick  was  not  altogether  indifferent  concerning 
the  uniform  he  wore  and  the  country  which  he  served.  After 
all,  it  was  the  land  which  had  bred  him ;  the  land  which  his 
gay,  daring  forefathers  had  won  for  him,  paying  lightly 
and  unregretfully  with  the  price  of  their  lives.  And  this 
work  which  he  was  doing  would  have  appealed  to  them  too. 
This  work  of  guarding  a  young  and  empty  land  into  which 
alien  races  were  constantly  pouring:  races  which  knew 
strange  gods  and  practised  strange  customs;  races  which 
became  naturalised  by  a  swift  system  which  they  under- 
stood in  the  letter  only,  and  which  accepted  responsibilities 
which  they  many  times  had  neither  the  wit  nor  the  knowl- 
edge to  understand. 

He  realised  quite  certainly  that  it  was  for  the  men  born 
of  Canada  to  help  her  aliens  through  with  their  unhandy  fin- 
gering of  a  life  that  was  new  and  strange.  And,  in  chief,  it 
was  for  those  men  on  whom  had  been  laid  the  charge  of 
bearing  the  law  of  the  English  across  and  across  the  soli- 
tudes ;  sowing  the  loneliness  thick  with  it,  so  that,  wher- 
ever the  feet  of  the  new-come  wanderer  might  tread,  there 
he  should  find  it  waiting  him.  Waiting  on  the  river  sands 
where  the  prospector  bores  for  oil  among  the  spores  of 
the  wolf  and  the  bear.  Waiting  on  the  blowing  blue- joint 
grass-lands  where  the  coyote  wakes  the  far  hollow  echoes, 
and  in  the  settler's  little  log  shack  the  business  of  life  and 
of  death  goes  forward.  Waiting  for  the  communities 


286  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

which  bunch  together  on  the  selections,  and  weaning  them 
from  their  unlawful  ways,  so  that  they  should  not  breed 
up  plague-spots  to  inoculate  East  and  West. 

And  it  waits  for  the  lonely  Indian,  that  law;  guarding 
him  along  his  silent  trails;  for  the  breed,  weakened  and 
demoralised  by  his  contact  with  the  white  man  who  recog- 
nises no  duty  towards  his  brother;  for  the  new  lives  yet 
to  be:  the  strange,  wonderful  medley  of  lives  out  of  which 
is  to  be  fused  the  still  untabulated  race  which  will  produce 
the  Canadian  of  the  future.  It  waits  for  them  all;  held 
grimly,  firmly  in  its  place  by  the  untiring  hands  and  the 
unflagging  souls  of  the  few,  the  very  few,  who  prove 
worthy  of  their  trust  until  the  end. 

Dick  felt  a  thrill  of  pleasure  at  the  thought  that  he  had 
given  Tempest  back  to  that  service.  For,  as  he  had  not 
broken  Tempest  outwardly,  so  he  could  not  believe  that 
he  had  broken  him  inwardly.  At  seeing  the  bare  future 
before  him  another  man  might  fling  himself  into  despairing 
sin.  But  not  Tempest.  The  training  of  a  whole  life  could 
not  fail  when  once  the  man's  eyes  were  open.  It  surely 
could  not  fail.  But  even  as  he  said  it  Dick  felt  the  doubt 
come.  Dared  man  say  that  anything  was  sure?  And  if  it 
was,  what  made  it  so?  Not  the  shifting  sand  of  man's 
own  heart;  not  the  vagrant  wind-puffs  of  his  desires;  not 
the  trembling  marsh-flames  of  his  beliefs.  Then,  since 
there  was  nothing  beyond  or  above  man,  it  followed  that 
nothing  was  sure.  Tempest  might  fall  into  a  deeper  pit 
than  that  from  which  Dick  had  pulled  him.  Jennifer 
might  give  the  lips  which  she  had  denied  him  to  another 
man.  For,  since  man's  stability  was  the  author  and  the 
core  of  all  the  virtues,  how  could  he,  a  man,  say  that  they 
were  sure? 

Dry  powdery  flakes  of  snow  drifted  down  through  the 
dark  canopy,  hissing  softly  on  the  fire,  and  Dick  rolled 
into  his  tent,  forgetting  past  certainties  and  future  possi- 
bilities in  sleep.  And  after  that  he  thrnst,  day  by  'day, 
further  into  the  forest  which  made  a  mighty  sounding- 
board  for  the  least  noise,  and  a  mighty  haven  for  his  rest- 
less spirit.  It  was  a  long  chase  and  a  hard  one,  and  seven 
weeks  and  over  had  gone  by  before  he  brought  his  man 
back;  a  little  leaner,  perhaps,  a  little  harder  in  the  muscles, 


"THE    THIEF    ON    THE    LEFT"        287 

and  a  very  great  deal  lighter  of  heart.  For  the  straight, 
honest  work  had  done  for  him  what  it  is  intended  to  do 
for  all  men,  it  had  drawn  the  restless  evil  out  of  him  and 
it  had  given  him  back  sanity  and  peace  and  an  honest 
contentment.  He  was  strong  enough  now  to  stand  up  to 
the  battle  that  life  might  hold  for  him  at  Grey  Wolf.  He 
was  strong  enough  to  meet  its  temptations. 

He  told  himself  that  even  if  Andree  had  not  forgotten 
him  for  a  newer  lover  she  could  not  trouble  him  now. 
Even  if  Tempest  had  not  forgiven  he  could  yield  Tempest 
obedience  and  love  again.  The  great  hand  of  discipline, 
hourly  bodily  discipline,  had  been  heavy  on  him  through 
these  six  weeks,  and  he  felt  the  benefit  of  it.  He  found 
a  merry  satisfaction  in  being  ruled  by  his  own  choice;  this 
man  who  could  not  rule  himself. 

Tempest  heard  them  coming  down  the  street  one  after- 
noon, with  Passpartout  singing  at  the  top  of  his  sturdy 
lungs  that  tenderest  and  best-known  little  love-song  of  the 
voyageur-men,  and  he  leaned  from  the  window,  listening. 

"  A  la  claire  fontaine, 
M'en  allant  promener, 
J'ai  trouver  1'  eau  si  belle 
Que  je  me  suis  baigne," 

sang  Passpartout,  ending  with  a  wild  "  H-r-r-r-mp,"  as 
he  swung  his  dogs  into  the  yard.  Dick  followed  with  the 
handsome,  sullen  Greek  beside  him.  The  man  had  evi- 
dently shown  fight,  for  he  was  handcuffed  to  a  strap  on 
Dick's  belt.  Tempest  smiled  as  Dick  halted  the  Greek  in 
the  yard  and  spoke  to  him  with  that  half-idle  levity  which 
nevertheless  masked  a  sharp  cunning  equal  to  that  of  his 
namesake,  the  wolverine.  The  Greek  was  not  fully  awake 
to  it  yet,  for  he  made  an  abortive  attempt  to  escape;  and 
then  Tempest  saw  how,  quick  as  light,  Dick  caught  the 
man  by  the  elbows,  ran  him  across  the  yard,  and  twisted 
him  into  a  cell.  After  that  he  pulled  down  his  tunic,  and 
Tempest  saw  him  nod  and  laugh  as  Kennedy  came  out  and 
spoke  to  him. 

Tempest  drew  back  nervously.  Dick  would  be  coming 
in  to  make  his  report  directly.  He  was  coming  now,  and 


288  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

Tempest's  heart  beat  unevenly  as  Dick  followed  his  knock 
into  the  room,  and  gave  his  report  succinctly,  coldly  erect 
and  official  as  Tempest  himself.  There  was  a  little  pause 
when  he  had  done.  There  was  a  moment  when  both  men 
desired  to  break  the  barrier  down.  But  the  moment 
passed ;  killed  by  the  strength  of  that  desire,  and  Dick  went 
out,  leaving  Tempest  to  settle  back  to  his  work. 

These  seven  weeks  had  been  harder  for  Tempest  than 
for  Dick.  But  they  had  done  him  good,  too.  No  word  of 
removal  had  come  for  him  yet;  and  here,  where  he  had  fal- 
len, he  had  to  take  his  stand  again  with  all  the  spirit  and 
the  force  that  were  left  to  him.  Meals  in  Grange's  big 
dining-room  with  Andree  to  wait  on  him  were  one  of  the 
hardest  things  to  face.  Yet  he  faced  them  from  the  first, 
showing  himself  no  more  mercy  than  Dick  had  shown  him. 
But  the  eager  glow  on  Andree's  skin  when  Dick's  name 
was  spoken  was  a  thing  which  he  could  not  steel  himself 
against.  He  knew  that  she  was  counting  the  hours  when 
this  new-found  love  of  hers  could  claim  its  own.  And  he 
knew,  too,  that  it  would  be  known  all  along  the  rivers  that 
Dick  had  taken  Andree  from  him,  and  that  the  speculations 
would  be  many  regarding  what  the  inspector  would  do. 
This  last  was  torment  to  his  sensitive  soul,  and  at  first 
he  winced  from  every  new  pair  of  eyes  that  met  his.  But 
that  also  was  conquered  as  time  went  by. 

And  then  he  began  to  realise  what  he  owed  the  man  who 
had  turned  him  back  to  his  duty  again ;  who,  even  in  this 
suffering  and  struggle,  had  given  him  back  a  peace  which 
he  had  missed  during  those  months  when  he  ceased  to 
struggle.  He  recognised  that  he  had  had  no  right  to  im- 
pute an  unworthy  motive  to  this  thing  which  Dick  had 
done.  Dick  was  too  weak  in  many  ways  and  too  strong 
in  others.  He  had  been  ill-judged,  cruel,  selfish;  but  he 
was  not  a  liar.  With  Tempest's  help  it  might  happen  that 
this  matter  would  not  fall  so  heavily  on  Andree  as  he  had 
feared.  Love  can  be  overcome ;  was  he  not  learning  that 
for  himself?  And  the  old  friendship  could  be  retained,  if 
God  willed. 

When  Dick  had  left  him  he  sat  for  a  little,  looking  on 
the  papers  which  Dick  had  brought.  The  very  ring  of  the 
man's  step,  the  very  sound  of  his  voice  had  been  pain. 


"THE    THIEF    ON    THE    LEFT"        289 

But  there  was  love  mixed  with  the  pain.  Bonds  formed 
in  early  heat  of  manhood  are  not  easily  broken,  and  those 
bonds  had  been  many  once.  He  smiled,  taking  up  his  pen. 
He  was  dining  with  the  Leigh's  to-night;  but  when  he 
came  back  he  would  speak  to  Dick,  and  he  believed  that 
there  was  something  in  Dick's  eyes  which  told  that  he 
would  be  glad  of  what  Tempest  had  to  say. 

Dick  went  to  sleep  in  the  big  chair  in  the  mess-room  that 
night,  and  he  waked  to  the  sound  of  soft  sobbing  and  the 
feel  of  something  wet  on  his  hands  and  face.  Drowsily  he 
opened  his  eyes,  and  as  he  did  so  Grange's  Andree  ceased 
her  tears  and  kisses  where  she  knelt  at  his  knee,  and  gath- 
ered up  his  right  hand  against  her  breast. 

"  Dick,"  she  said.     "  Dick." 

Just  that,  and  her  voice  was  very  low.  But  Dick,  look- 
ing into  those  wet  wild-animal  eyes  of  hers,  knew  that 
Tempest  had  spoken  truth.  By  some  mockery  of  the  Devil 
he  himself  had  brought  to  Andree  the  gift  of  a  soul — that 
she  might  love  him  with  it.  For  the  moment  he  did  not 
move.  He  watched  her  as  she  knelt  there  with  her  face 
upturned  and  her  curls  gathered  into  the  nape  of  her  neck, 
and  he  wondered  idly  what  Tempest  and  some  other  men 
would  have  given  to  see  that  light  in  Andree's  eyes.  Her 
fur  coat  and  cap  lay  on  the  floor,  and  the  glow  of  the  out- 
side cold  was  on  her  skin.  She  drew  his  hand  across  her 
heart,  and  her  voice  shook  a  little. 

"  I  did  think  it  would  stop,  moi,"  she  said.  "  It  was  si 
longtemps  to  wait." 

He  did  not  move  his  eyes  from  her.  He  knew  too  much 
to  doubt  the  look  in  her  eyes  or  the  leap  of  her  heart  under 
his  hand.  There  was  bitterness  and  there  was  anger  in 
the  faint  smile  on  his  lips.  This  was  not  fair.  Why 
should  this  girl  who  might  have  loved  plenty  of  men, 
Heaven  knew,  choose  him?  He  was  not  even  flattered. 
The  thing  had  been  too  simple.  He  was  injured.  Fate 
seldom  neglected  to  make  him  pay  promptly  for  his  sins — 
and  this  had  not  been  all  his  own  fault.  He  sat  up,  push- 
ing her  gently  back. 

"  Come,  Andree,"  he  said.  "  You  have  no  right  here, 
you  know." 

"  Comment  done !  "  said  Andree,  and  laughed  softly.   "  I 


290  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

have  the  right  to  come  to  you."  She  brought  her  warm, 
brilliant-tinted  face  close.  "Make  not  coquette  contre 
moi  to-night,  Eick,"  she  said.  "  Leave  that  so  small  thing 
for  a  woman." 

Dick  winced  involuntarily.  This  thing  which  he  would 
have  to  do  was  so  pitiably  small  that  it  was  going  to  take 
him  all  his  powers  to  go  through  with  it.  For  Grange's 
Andree  would  not  be  bound  by  any  of  the  ordinary  con- 
ventions which  rule  women.  She  was  leaning  on  him, 
laughing,  and  holding  his  hand  against  her  with  those 
two  long  slender  ones  of  hers.  And  her  dark  eyes  held  the 
light  of  all  the  stars. 

"  I  did  kiss  you  and  kiss  you  till  I  did  kiss  you  awake," 
she  said  gleefully.  "  I  did  never  think  it  so  nice  to  kiss 
before — except  Moosta's  babies.  But  you  are  much  more 
better  than  Moosta's  babies,  Dick." 

Dick  would  have  known  how  to  meet  other  women  in 
like  case.  It  was  possible  that  he  had  had  practise.  But 
he  was  unsure  with  Grange's  Andree. 

"  Thank  you,  Andree.  But  you  must  not  kiss  me  any 
more." 

"  Pourquoi  ?  " 

"  Because — well,  because  we  have  finished  the  game  we 
were  playing,  my  dear.  It  was  just  un  petit  brin  de  cour, 
Andree.  Didn't  you  know  that?  " 

She  hated  him  to  use  French  to  her.  It  reminded  her 
of  her  breedlike  limitation,  and  he  knew  it. 

"  A  flirtation/'  she  said  slowly.  "  A  flirtation.  Bien ! 
C'est  bon  assez.  Kiss  me,  Dick." 

She  put  her  lips  up,  but  he  did  not  meet  them.  While 
those  kisses  meant  nothing  to  her  he  had  not  considered 
that  they  mattered.  He  looked  at  her  with  his  eyes  dark, 
and  something  woke  in  him  that  had  not  troubled  him  for 
years.  He  fought  it  impatiently  for  a  moment.  Then  he 
obeyed  it. 

'  No,"  he  said,  and  pushed  "his  chair  back,  and  stood  up. 
"  I  shall  never  kiss  you  any  more,  Andree.  Get  up  and  go 
home." 

She  came  to  her  feet  in  one  little  movement,  standing 
still  with  her  hands  hanging. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  she  said.     "  You  did  make  my 


"THE    THIEF    ON    THE    LEFT"       291 

pictures.  And  you  did  say  'je  t'aime,'  and  you  did  kiss 
me — so  many  times."  She  paused,  with  her  straight  brows 
knotted.  She  was  moved  beyond  her  English,  and  yet  she 
dimly  felt  that  it  brought  her  more  to  the  level  of  the  man. 
"  Since  you  did  go — I  think  I  have  perhaps  not  make  very 
happy.  I  feel  I  want  you  come  back.  I  think  of  you  tout 
le — all  times.  I  not  want  to  be  touch.  I  slap  Jimmy 
when  he  put  his  arm  round  me.  He  say,  '  Why  you  slap  ?  ' 
I  say,  '  I  not  know/  It  is  you  would  know,  I  s'pose. 
You  make  it  so." 

She  stood  very  still,  looking  at  him  with  innocent,  ap- 
pealing eyes.  He  walked  through  the  little  room  rest- 
lessly. Yes,  he  knew.  But  that  did  not  seem  likely  to 
simplify  the  matter  in  the  very  least.  Then  he  turned  to 
her,  making  his  first  cowardly  step  of  retreat. 

"  You  must  understand  that  it  is  not  customary  for  a 
girl  to  come  and  talk  like  this  to  a  man,  my  dear,"  he  said. 
"  It  was  faire  jouer  only.  You  have  no  right  to  think  more 
of  it." 

"  But  I  have  all  the  right,"  said  Andree  gravely.  "  I 
feel  it  here — in  my  coeur — my — my  top  'tomick." 

"  Then  I  had  no  right  to  give  you  the  right.     Forget  it." 

"  Mais — what  do  that  mean  ?  " 

His  face  looked  drawn  and  dark.  The  slight  smile  on 
his  lips  was  bitter.  He  hated  himself  for  the  part  he  must 
play.  And  yet  there  was  no  way  out  but  the  one.  If  he 
could  rouse  the  wild  animal  fury  in  her  it  would  be  easier 
to  meet  than  this  attitude  which  stirred  his  pity.  But  he 
hesitated  before  open  brutality  to  a  woman.  Then  he  said: 

"  It  means  that  I  am  tired  of  you.  It  means  that  I  have 
treated  you  as  you  have  treated  plenty  of  men,  Grange's 
Andree." 

"  Then — what  make  me  feel — so — for  you?  "  she  asked. 

"  The  Devil  knows.  He  has  had  a  fairly  large  share  in 
this  business  all  through." 

"  But,"  cried  Andree,  in  the  tone  of  one  suddenly  awak- 
ened. "  But  I  want  you.  That  make  you  want  me  be- 
cause I  want  you." 

'Not  by  chalks.     How  about  Tempest?" 

"  But — it  is  me — me  who  want  you,"  insisted  Andree ; 
and  then  Dick  laughed,  laying  his  arms  on  the  back  of 


292  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

the  big  chair,  and  looking  at  her  with  tired,  wise  eyes. 

"  It  takes  a  woman  to  get  down  to  the  personal  view,"  he 
said.  "  You're  primitive,  Andree.  I  always  said  so.  But 
I  didn't  guess  at  this  when  I  started  out.  I  would  beg 
your  pardon;  but  I  know  better  than  to  try  to  pay  my 
debts  with  a  five-cent  bit.  Let  it  go  at  that.  If  I've  hurt 
you  I  assure  you  that  you've  got  the  goods  on  me  right 
now." 

She  drew  a  long  breath  through  her  teeth. 

"  Is  it  like  when  I  would  go  from  Tempest  and  I  was 
afraid?  "  she  asked. 

"  Ab-solutely." 

"And  when  Robison  said  about  love,  and  I  did  nearly 
hit  him,  and  did  not  hit  just  because?  " 

"  Oh,  Lord.     Yes !  " 

"And— and  like  when  Ogil " 

"  Andree,  I  fancy  you  know  enough.  We  are  neither 
making  our  maiden  attempt,  are  we?  Let  up  on  me,  An- 
dree, and  watch  out  for  another  fellow  who's  looking  for 
trouble.  I  give  you  the  whole  world  so  long  as  you  leave 
Tempest  alone." 

"  But,"  said  Andree  convincingly,  "  it  is  not  like  any  of 
these,  because  it  is  I  who  love  you.  Do  you  see?  " 

Dick  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  If  a  man  pays  his  debts  fully  here  there  is  a  reason- 
able hope  that  he  may  go  free  hereafter,"  he  said.  "  An- 
dree, it  is  exactly  like  them  all  because  I  don't  love  you 
any  more  than  you  loved  them." 

That  went  home.  He  saw  her  wince.  But  still  she 
could  not  believe. 

"  But — qu'est-ce  que  I  have  done  to  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

Dick  knew  that  she  had  not  the  wit  to  follow  a  line  of 
reasoning  out.  She  just  sought  the  why  as  a  beaten  dog 
might  have  done.  But  that  did  not  ease  matters.  He 
evaded  direct  answer. 

"  To-night  you  have  done  a  good  deal,"  he  said.  "  I 
give  you  my  word  that  a  man  does  not  enjoy  feeling  as  you 
have  made  me  feel  to-night." 

"But  what  have  I  done  to  you?"  Suddenly  she  flung 
herself  into  the  chair-seat,  reaching  up  her  hands  to  his 
shoulders.  Her  eyes  were  frightened,  but  wistful  with 


"THE    THIE£   ON   THE   LEFT >?       293 

their  great  love.  "  What  have  I  done  to  you  ?  "  she  said 
again.  "  Tell  me,  et  si  vous  fache  centre  moi  I  will  undo 
it." 

"  I  am  not  angry.  But  you  can't  undo  it,  and  neither 
can  I." 

The  cynical  smile  twitched  his  lips  again.  "  The 
trouble  began  when  you  were  made  a  woman  and  I  was 
made  a  man,  Andree." 

"  But  I  did  not  mean  to  be,"  she  said,  not  understand- 
ing. 

"  No."  He  looked  at  her  with  his  eyes  half-closed  as 
when  he  was  painting  her.  "  No ;  it  would  have  been  bet- 
ter not  to  be,  wouldn't  it?  The  Power  which  created  you 
will  owe  you  a  good  deal  at  settling-up  time,  Grange's  An- 
dree." 

"  Ah ! "  she  said  impatiently.  "  I  do  not  understand. 
Kiss  me,  Dick.  You  did  not  never  wait  so  long  before." 

"  You  hit  very  straight  for  a  woman,  my  dear  girl.  But 
I  am  not  going  to  kiss  you  any  more,  Andree,  because, 
having  hurt  you  quite  considerably  I  have  to  keep  on  hurt- 
ing you  in  order  to  gain  my  self-respect.  Does  that  sound 
funny  to  you?  It  sounds  equally  funny  to  me.  Very 
nearly  funny  enough  to  make  one  laugh.  But  I  can  assure 
you  that  it  is  according  to  the  ordinary  rules  of  the  game." 

"  Dieu !  You  make  so  much  talk !  And  I  do  not  under- 
stand." She  pushed  her  face  close  to  his.  "  Put  your 
hands  on  my  face  and  kiss  me,  Dick.  That  I  do  under- 
stand." 

"  Yes,  you  do,  Heaven  help  you.  We  have  made  sure 
of  that." 

He  freed  himself  from  her  clutching  hands  and  picked 
up  her  cap  and  coat. 

"  Put  these  on  and  go  home,  Andree,"  he  said.  "  It's 
getting  late." 

She  sprang  upright  in  one  bound;  her  hands  gripped  up, 
her  eyes  blazing. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  turned  to  meet  her. 

"  Now  we  are  going  to  have  it,"  he  said. 

A  moment  she  stood  so;  battling  with  the  great  sobs 
that  were  shaking  her.  Then  she  hurled  herself  forward 
on  her  knees  with  her  arms  round  him  in  what  would 


294  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

have  been  melodrama  in  another  woman  but  was  pure 
natural  abandonment  in  Grange's  Andree. 

"  Put  your  hand  on  to  me/'  she  sobbed.  "  Put  your 
hand — an'  say  you  love  me.  Dick!  Dick!  Not  to  make 
me  go  like  this.  Not  to  be  cruel — all  in  one  togezzer. 
Dick — it  make  me  kill  some  place  inside." 

Apart  from  the  real  pity  and  shame  in  him  his  natural 
instinct  for  analysis  was  awake.  He  had  not  dreamed 
that  there  was  anything  in  the  girl  which  could  suffer  like 
this.  She  clung  to  him,  hiding  her  face  against  him,  and 
she  shook  them  both  with  her  wild  sobbing.  He  drew  a 
hard  breath,  standing  quite  still,  and  looking  at  this  thing 
as  his  mind  showed  it. 

It  was  inevitable  that  he  should  break  Andree  here,  be- 
cause Andree  stood  for  the  primitive,  the  savage;  for  the 
primal  thing  which  has  to  be  done  away  with  before  the 
march  of  progress.  She  was  the  Canada  of  the  unformed, 
the  undisciplined,  the  uncivilised.  And,  being  so,  she  had 
to  make  way  for  the  needs  and  desires  of  the  white  man 
who  peoples  the  world  in  the  place  of  the  native-born. 
For  always,  over  the  face  of  the  earth,  go  the  white  men; 
fulfilling  their  destiny;  destroying  the  lesser  within  or 
without  the  law ;  taking  that  which  they  can  never  replace ; 
but  obeying,  even  as  the  lesser  animal  obeys,  that  great 
merciless  inscrutable  Power  which  has  made  of  the  white 
race  rulers,  founders,  destroyers ;  the  builders-up  of  new 
dynasties ;  the  devourers  of  the  old. 

Tempest  stood  for  the  new  dynasty;  for  the  race  of  the 
future;  for  a  link  in  the  long  chain  wherewith  the  white 
man  buckles  the  earth  to  himself.  And  Andree  stood  for 
the  old  dynasty;  the  thing  which  must  die;  the  thing  to  be 
trodden  hard  that  the  roots  of  the  new-planted  tree  should 
stand  firm  in  it.  This  was  the  law  of  life;  the  law  of 
eternity.  It  was  the  ever-mutable.  Now  out  of  which  the 
Future  is  shaped.  All  mankind  were  governed  alike  by 
that  law.  There  was  no  escape.  But,  with  those  young 
arms  gripped  about  him,  Dick  did  not  feel  competent  to  lay 
the  whole  blame  on  the  natural  evolution  of  destiny. 

Andree  drew  herself  up  against  him;  lifting  her  quiver- 
ing lips. 

"  Not  to  love  me,  perhaps,"  she  said.     "  But  to  let  me 


"THE    THIEF    ON   THE    LEFT"       295 

stay.  To  put  your  hand  on  me.  Not  to  stand — so.  Dick, 
make  your  eyes  kind  to  me  again." 

He  took  her  arms  and  lifted  her  away  resolutely. 

"  My  dear  girl/'  he  said,  "  don't  you  think  we've  had 
enough  of  this?  You  don't  expect  me  to  change  my  mind 
once  I've  said  a  thing,  do  you?  " 

Then  the  savage  roused  in  her.  She  charged  him,  with 
head  down  and  hands  clawing  and  white  teeth  snapping. 
The  onslaught  all  but  upset  him,  for  he  was  unprepared, 
and  for  a  few  moments  he  needed  to  put  out  all  his  strength 
to  master  her.  He  had  her  by  the  wrists  at  last,  and  they 
faced  each  other;  tall,  straight  and  breathless,  with  white 
passionate  faces  and  shut  lips.  Then,  quite  suddenly, 
Andree  laughed. 

"  Dieu,"  she  said.  "  You  are  the  strong  man.  I  think 
you  might  kill  me." 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  said  Dick  sincerely.  Andree  laughed 
again. 

"  I  did  never  have  done  like  you  do  to  me,"  she  said. 
"  Even  Robison  he  say,  '  Cherie  Andree.  Bonne  Andree/ 
Mais  vous — !  Viola!  C'est  tout  le  meme  devil  in  we  two." 

"  Then  you  ought  to  know  how  to  respect  it.  Will  you 
go  home  ?  " 

"  Peste !  I  do  not  know."  She  looked  at  him  in  frank 
appreciation.  At  the  brown,  lean  face — hard-fleshed,  well- 
shaped,  wind-tanned ;  at  the  set  of  the  lips  and  the  slightly- 
twitching  thin  nostrils ;  at  the  level  eyes  whence  the  pity 
was  driven  back.  He  was  so  entirely  the  man  and  the 
master  that  the  animal  simplicity  in  her  obeyed  him  with 
actual  pleasure  in  the  obedience. 

"  Bien,"  she  said,  and  glanced  down  at  her  wrists  where 
his  grip  drove  the  colour  from  her  skin.  "  Bien,"  she  said 
again,  and  glanced  up  daringly  to  his  face.  "  Kiss  me 
now,  Dick,  and  I  will  go." 

She  brought  her  mouth  near.  Her  breath  was  sweet  and 
milky  as  a  cow's,  and  her  red  lips  were  parted  like  a 
child's.  The  storm  had  passed  for  the  moment,  but  elec- 
tricity was  in  the  air  yet.  Dick  felt  it.  And  felt  as  he 
had  felt  before  the  intoxication  of  her  beauty.  And  he 
let  his  lips  stoop  down  to  hers. 

And  then  she  flung  her  arms  round  his  neck  and  so  held 


296  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

him.  And  he  did  not  hear  when  Tempest,  coming  back 
from  the  Leighs'  evening  party,  walked  down  the  passage, 
and  opened  the  mess-room  door.  It  was  Andree  who  heard 
and  saw  and  pulled  free  with  a  little  cry.  Dick  did  not 
look  at  Tempest.  He  put  the  girl  into  her  cap  and  coat; 
pulled  wide  the  outer  door,  and  gave  her  good-night  on 
the  step.  Then  he  turned  coolly  back  into  the  room,  with 
a  simulation  of  indifference  on  him.  His  luck  was  surely 
surpassing  itself  to-night.  Tempest's  head  was  bare.  But 
he  still  wore  his  fur  coat,  and  his  hands  were  gloved. 
Dick  wondered  for  a  moment  if  the  man  would  hit  him. 
But  Tempest  only  said,  very  quietly: 

"If  she  was  not  good  enough  for  me,  can  it  be  possible 
that  you  consider  her  good  enough  for  yourself,  my 
friend  ?  " 

The  words  bit  like  acid,  but  Dick  did  not  wince.  His 
mouth  drew  down  at  the  corners  in  the  slight  smile  Tem- 
pest had  always  hated  to  see.  There  was  no  defence  for 
this  case,  and  he  was  not  going  to  make  any.  Tempest's 
face  changed.  His  eyes  blazed  suddenly,  and  he  drew 
himself  up  to  his  full  height:  cold  ringing  steel,  like  the 
sword  of  justice  unsheathed. 

"  I  hold  you  responsible  for  her,"  he  said.  "  I  hold  you 
responsible  for  her  till  the  end  of  time." 

Out  of  the  miserable  consciousness  of  his  treachery  Dick 
answered  him. 

"  By  what  right?  "  he  asked,  and  the  sneer  twisted  his 
lips. 

A  moment  more  Tempest  stood,  unmoving.  Then  he 
seemed  to  crumble  and  weaken.  He  put  his  hand  up  to 
his  face  suddenly;  turned,  and  stumbled  out,  and  Dick 
saw  his  shoulders  heaving.  The  door  shut,  and  Dick  sought 
in  his  pockets  for  his  pipe;  tried  to  fill  it,  and  found  that 
his  hands  would  not  serve  him.  He  stood  still,  staring 
straight  at  the  wall.  There  was  no  palliation  for  what  he 
had  done,  and  not  for  an  instant  did  he  attempt  to  find 
any.  Vaguely,  at  the  back  of  his  head,  two  lines  of  some 
profane  song  were  ringing: 

"  And  the  thief  on  the  left  said  never  a  word, 
For  the  son  of  a  gun  had  sand." 


"THE    THIEF    ON    THE    LEFT"       297 

Dick  had  offered  no  weak  excuses.  He  had  accepted 
his  disgrace  and  stood  up  to  it.  But  for  the  moment  there 
was  no  relief  in  that.  He  spoke  slowly,  drawing  a  deep 
breath. 

"  He  will  never  forgive  himself  for  that,"  he  said.  "  He 
will  never  forgive  himself  because  he  let  me  see  him  cry- 
ing." 


CHAPTER   XIII 

I   WANT   THE    WEST    AGAIN  " 

"  MOTHER,"  cried  Jennifer.  "  Slicker  has  been  talking 
North- West  all  the  afternoon,  and  I'm  quite  drunk  with 
it" 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Jennifer's  mother  gently.  "  Please 
say  inebriated;"  and  then  Jennifer  laughed,  standing  in 
the  middle  of  the  room  and  pushing  back  her  hair  into 
a  ruddy  glory  round  her  bright  face. 

"  What  a  darling  you  are,"  she  said.  "  Isn't  she, 
Slicker?  Mother  mine,  if  I  go  West  again  you'll  have 
to  come  too " 

"  But  you  don't  want  to  go  West  again,  dear." 

"  But  I  do.  I  awfully  do.  You  know  I  always  would 
begin  everything  at  the  beginning — even  a  book.  And 
they  are  still  beginning  at  the  beginning  out  there.  We'll 
go  back,  and  drive  the  trails  in  a  democrat,  and  be  tracked 
in  a  York  boat,  and  have  half-breed  servants  who  don't 
know  the  English  for  '  Hurry  up,'  and — for  mercy's  sake, 
Slicker!  There  are  visitors!  Fly!  Fly!  I  wouldn't 
have  anybody  see  you  in  that  rig  for  a  pension." 

For  the  benefit  of  Jennifer's  mother  Slicker  had  robed 
himself  in  full  glory  of  mooseskin  coat,  blue  shirt  and  moc- 
casins. He  stood  his  ground  now,  impudent  and  delighted. 

"  Land  of  Liberty !  "  he  said.  "  Give  a  fellow  a  show, 
honey.  I'll  knock  'em  in  these  better  than  in  any  store- 
clothes  ever  sewn." 

"  Don't  be  vulgar."  Jennifer  was  peeping  through  the 
curtains.  "  Oh,  it  is  Mrs.  Barrymore  and  Angela.  They 
are  darlings,  and  I  wouldn't  so  much  mind — but  Mrs. 
Chichester  is  with  them,  and  she's  always  looking  for 
something  to  be  scandalised  about.  Will  you  go,  Slicker? 
Martha  will  be*"  showing  them  in  just  in  half  a  minute." 

Slicker  sat  down. 

"  There's  a  meanness  about  you  sometimes  that  I  don't 
298 


"I    WANT    THE   WEST    AGAIN"       299 

like,  Jennifer/'  he  remarked.  "  Why  should  you  disap- 
point Mrs.  Chichester?  We  are  all  meant  to  make  life 
as  pleasant  as  we  can  for  others." 

"  If  you  think  that  you'll  go.     Oh — it's  too  late." 

She  went  forward  with  her  charming,  half-shy  grace  of 
manner,  and,  quailing  under  the  suppressed  emotion  of  the 
three  ladies  in  the  door,  weakly  introduced  Slicker  as  "  my 
cousin.  Just  come  from  the  North-West,  you  know." 

It  was  the  extremely  pretty  girl  in  the  middle  who  dis- 
concerted Slicker  for  at  least  five  minutes,  and  Jennifer 
was  human  enough  to  find  spiteful  delight  in  the  knowl- 
edge. But  the  little  feminine  flutter  and  stir  and  half- 
finished  sentences  before  seats  and  tea  were  provided  gave 
him  his  balanc  again.  Six  weeks  ago  Slicker  had  left  Grey 
Wolf  and  come  to  Toronto  to  settle  his  business  affairs  with 
his  uncle  before  joining  the  Police.  His  uncle  had  been 
displeased  and  had  not  troubled  to  conceal  the  fact.  On 
the  whole,  Slicker  considered  that  he  rather  obtruded  it. 
Jennifer  and  her  mother  had  been  in  New  York,  and 
to-day  was  Slicker's  first  chance  for  full  appreciation  and 
confidence.  The  advent  of  these  three  threatened  to  spoil 
it,  and  Slicker  was  bent  on  revenging  himself  accordingly. 

Jennifer  began  to  tremble  when  she  saw  that  he  attached 
himself  unhesitatingly  to  Mrs.  Chichester;  bringing  cake 
and  tea,  closing  a  window  against  the  draught,  and  finally 
settling  into  the  next  chair  with  all  the  appearance  of  one 
who  intends  to  be  a  fixture.  Mrs.  Chichester  pinned  him 
instantly  under  her  lorgnette,  and  through  Jennifer's  con- 
versation with  the  others  she  heard  scraps  of  conversation 
which  did  not  ease  her  mind. 

"  Why,  no,"  said  Slicker,  in  evident  answer  to  some 
question.  "  I  suppose  I  might  rather  call  myself  a  mis- 
sionary." 

"  Oh ! "  Mrs.  Chichester's  voice  was  dubious.  "  I 
thought  missionaries  were — would  not — but  I  infer  you 
must  follow  the  customs  of  the  country  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not."  The  scandalised  piety  in  Slicker's 
tone  would  have  done  credit  to  Mrs.  Chichester  herself. 
"  Please  don't  mention  the  customs  of  the  country,  Mrs. 
Chichester." 

"  Why — you   don't  mean " 


300  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

Both  voices  dropped,  and  through  the  unheard  conver- 
sation which  followed  Jennifer,  as  she  told  Slicker  after- 
wards, "  simply  grilled."  She  broke  it  at  last  by  coming 
across  with  her  cup. 

"  I  really  must  interrupt  you,"  she  said.  "  Mrs.  Barry- 
more  wants  to  speak  to  you,  Slicker,  and  you  have  monop- 
olised Mrs.  Chichester  quite  long  enough.  Mrs.  Barry- 
more  is  a  member  of  the  Woman's  Auxiliary,  Slicker.  You 
have  helped  unpack  some  of  the  bales  of  clothing  which 
they  send  out  to  the  Anglican  Missions,  I  know.  I  have 
heard  you  speak  of  it  at  Grey  Wolf." 

Slicker's  blue  eyes  met  hers  full.  They  looked  star- 
tlingly  blue  in  the  deep  bronze  of  his  face,  and  they  looked 
wickedly  amused.  He  had  read  her  ruse,  and  he  was  not 
going  to  let  her  benefit  by  it.  He  rose  promptly. 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  give  Mrs.  Barrymore  any  infor- 
mation she  may  require  about  the  best  kinds  of  things  to 
send  up  there,"  he  said. 

"  Slicker,"  began  Jennifer  despairingly,  and  then  Mrs. 
Barrymore  smiled  across  the  room. 

"  You  are  a  convert  to  mission  work,  then  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Well,  not  exactly  a  convert."  Slicker  remembered 
Miss  Chubb's  oft-repeated  assertions  that  he  would  be  the 
death  of  her  and  that  the  circumstance  was  fierce.  "  I  do 
what  little  I  can;"  his  voice  was  modest.  "Sometimes  I 
^help  the  deaconess  sell  things  to  the  breeds  and  Indians. 
A  corporal  in  the  M.  P.  and  I  are  trying  to  marry  off  some 
of  the  girls  around  Grey  Wolf  if  only  we  could  get  some- 
thing stylish  on  them  to  take  the  eye " 

Jennifer's  mother  created  a  diversion  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. But  Slicker  returned  to  the  attack.  He  was  enjoy- 
ing himself  better  than  he  had  expected,  and  the  pretty 
girl  was  evidently  interested. 

"  You  need  to  send  up  some  real  smart  dashing  clothes, 
Mrs.  Barrymore,"  he  said.  "  I  know  what  a  breed  girl 
wants  to  make  her  look  human.  I've  tried  most  of  the 
bale-room  things  on  them " 

"  Oh ! "  Mrs.  Chichester  shot  the  word  out  like  a 
bomb,  and  Slicker's  calm  voice  continued:  " — on  top  of 
their  other  clothes.  They're  not  nice  about  a  thing  fitting 
too  quick.  And  if  you  pinch  them  in  one  place  they — 


"I    WANT    THE    WEST    AGAIN"       301 

they  make  up  for  it  in  another.  Find  their  level,  as  you 
may  say.  But  Dick  and  I  would  like  to  see  them  in 
something  stylish.  Not  neat,  plain,  serviceable  garments, 
such  as  you  send,  and  not  squishy  things  either.  There's 
one  chiffon  bonnet  with  rosebuds  that  I've  tried  on  every 
girl  in  the  district — and  not  one  of  'em  but  would  scare 
a  skunk  in  it.  You  have  to  study  their  requirements, 
you  know.  There  are  half  a  dozen  would  make  a  good 
stand  in  the  matrimonial  market  if  they  were  dressed  to 
kill." 

"  You  appear  to  take  a  great  interest  in  human  nature," 
began  Mrs.  Chichester  acidly. 

"  Jn  half  of  it;"  Slicker's  bow  was  as  unimpeachable 
as  his  voice.  But  Jennifer  broke  in  ruthlessly. 

"  He  doesn't  really  know  anything  about  it,  Mrs.  Barry- 
more.  Miss  Chubb  never  lets  him  into  the  bale-room  if 
she  can  help  it.  She  told  me  once  that  he  took  more  watch- 
ing than  a  hen  in  the  flower-garden.  He  dressed  up  to-day 
to  amuse  us,  and  he  is  just  trying  to  act  the  part." 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Chichester,  didn't  you  read  all  about  the 
Missions  and  the  Mounted  Police  in  those  articles  Jenni- 
fer wrote  for  one  of  the  Toronto  papers  ?  " 

"  Slicker !      I  never  wrote  them.     You  know  I   didn't. 

And  if  I  had "     Jennifer  went  red  and  white.     She 

had  been  too  far  inside  that  life  to  speak  of  it  lightly. 

"  Well,  of  course,  you  don't  know  the  whole  of  it,  any- 
way. A  Mounted  Policeman  has  to  carry  his  life  in  his 
hand,  you  know.  His  life  in  one  hand  and  his  revolver 
in  the  other,  and  his  reins  between  his  teeth.  That's  why 
they  won't  let  you  into  the  Force  if  you  have  false  teeth. 
Too  much  depends  on  their  staying  in.  Mine  are  all  right." 
Slicker  smiled  to  prove  it.  "  And  I  am  joining  next  month. 
It's  a  tricky  kind  of  life — but  I  don't  want  to  harrow  you 
by  telling  you  too  much  about  that  sort  of  thing.  We  men 
are  accustomed  to  danger,  you  know." 

Jennifer  looked  at  him  with  interest.  His  manner  was 
certainly  splendid.  Even  Mrs.  Chichester  was  impressed, 
and  Angela  Barrymore  never  took  her  eyes  off  him. 

"Of  course  anyone  who  lives  constantly  in  such  condi- 
tions cannot  be  exactly  normal,"  vouchsafed  Mrs.  Chi- 
chester, with  the  air  of  one  granting  a  concession. 


302  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  But  I  guess  you  don't  know  anything  about  the  con- 
ditions yet.  Did  my  cousin  tell  you  of  the  river-steamers 
where  the  cabins  are  so  small  that  you  have  to  go  outside 
to  turn  round,  and  the  whole  ship's  company  and  passen- 
gers wash  in  one  basin  in  the  alley- way?  Or  about  the 
shacks  where  the  board-partitions  are  an  inch  apart,  so 
that  it's  best  to  go  to  bed  in  the  dark." 

"That  will  do,  Slicker!" 

"  Now,  honey !  Don't  pretend  you  don't  know.  Who 
pinned  her  things  up  all  around  the  walls  that  night  at 
Sheridan's  ?  Think  I  didn't  hear  about  it  ?  " 

With  the  other  ladies'  cordial  co-operation  Jennifer 
turned  the  conversation,  and  Slicker  subsided  into  a  corner 
with  Angela  Barrymore.  Neither  seemed  anxious  to  come 
out  of  it  when  the  move  for  departure  was  made;  and 
Slicker  accompanied  them  all  into  the  hall  and  waved  his 
good-byes  from  the  step.  When  he  came  back  Jennifer 
was  waiting  for  him. 

"  You — you  perfect  little  beast,  Slicker,"  she  cried. 
"What  made  you  do  it?" 

"  Be  easy,  honey ;  "  the  familiar  term,  caught  from  Dick, 
stilled  Jennifer's  heart  for  a  moment.  "  That  old  lady 
with  the  three  cock's-tails  hasn't  had  such  a  time  since 
she  doesn't  know  when.  You'll  hear  all  about  it  at  half 
a  dozen  afternoons.  And  think  what  kudos  you'll  get  for 
having  seen  it  all." 

"  You  didn't  tell  her  anything  about — me,  Slicker  ?  " 

Slicker  put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder,  looking  down  at 
her. 

"  You  didn't  think  that  of  me,  honey?  Not  for  one  little 
minute.  That's  right.  Now,  come  and  have  a  jaw  over 
the  fire.  Where's  auntie  ?  " 

"  Someone  came  to  see  her  on  business."  Jennifer  let 
herself  down  beside  Slicker  on  the  hearthrug,  and  flung  on 
a  hickory-knot.  "  I  just  hate  you  for  making  fun  of  all 
the  splendid  work  people  do  for  the  missions,"  she  said. 
"  And  you  were  very  rude  about  the  W.  A.,  too." 

"  She  didn't  mind,  bless  you.  And  I  told  Miss  Barry- 
more  some  plain  truth." 

"Oh,  I  hope  it  wasn't  too  plain,  you  wretch.  You  know 
how  you " 


"I    WANT    THE    WEST    AGAIN"       303 

"  Now,  honey,  don't  waste  time.  I  want  to  get  down 
to  essentials.  You're  glad  that  I'm  going  into  the  Force?  " 

"  Yes.     Yes ;  I  think  so.     But  it  will  take " 

"  I  know,  honey.  I  know  it's  not  all  ice-cream,  sodas, 
and  limelight  effects.  I  know  it's  not  an  easy  life  in  any 
one  way.  Tempest  rubbed  that  into  me — salted  it  in.  But 
I  have  decided  on  it,  and  I  will  stick  to  it." 

Jennifer  was  thinking  of  one  man  of  the  Royal  North- 
West  Mounted  Police,  and  of  the  want  of  ease  his  life 
had  given  him. 

"Did — did  anyone  else  advise  it?"  she  asked. 

"  Well— I  told  you  what  Dick  Heriot  said.  But  I  didn't 
tell  you  why.  Anyway,  it's  a  life  where  a  man  has  to  be 
a  man  or  get  out.  And  that's  attractive,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  you  boy !     Is  that  all  ?  " 

"  No."  Slicker  poked  the  fire  until  the  sparks  flew,  and 
he  did  not  look  at  her.  "  No.  I've  been  rotting  since  you 
left,  Jennifer.  I  had  to  take  up  something — or  follow 
Ogilvie's  trail." 

"  Slicker !  Oh,  Slicker !  "  Jennifer  saw  the  boy  face 
and  figure  through  a  sudden  mist  of  tears.  "  I  never 
thought  of  that  for  you." 

"  I  never  thought  of  it  for  myself.  But  it  is  in  the  air 
up  there,  some  way.  You  know  how  it  is,  Jennifer.  Noth- 
ing to  do  but  hang  around  the  hotel  and  smoke  and  yarn 
and  drink.  And  when  you  were  gone — well,  I  told  you 
Heriot  pulled  me  up  that  day  of  the  fire.  He  didn't  say 
much.  But,  my  land,  he  makes  a  little  go  a  long  way.  I 
wish  he  wasn't  really  such  a  brute.'* 

"  Perhaps  if  you — if  you  knew  him  better,  dear."  Jen- 
nifer's words  were  uncertain  here,  but  Slicker's  answer  was 
not. 

"  D'you  think  I  don't  know  him  a  hundred  times  better 
than  you  do,  honey?  Even  if  I  could  forgive  him  for  what 
he  did  and  said  to  you,  I  can't  forgive  him  for  what  he's 
doing  to  Tempest." 

Jennifer  made  the  fire  up  before  she  asked: 

"What  is  he  doing  to  Mr.  Tempest?  " 

"Well — you  know  how  crazy  poor  old  Tempest  is  over 
Grange's  Andree?  Heriot  is  cutting  him  out  there,  lock, 
stock  and  barrel.  But  he  hasn't  the  honesty  to  let  Tempest 


304  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

know,  and  the  poor  old  beggar  is  as  blind  as  a  bat  where 
that  girl  is  concerned.  It's  a  beastly  underhand  trick  to 
play  any  man.  I  gave  up  calling  Heriot  Dick  when  I  got 
to  the  bottom  of  that." 

"  Oh,  Slicker !  You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking 
about.  You  never  do.  They  were  such  friends " 

"  That's  the  reason,"  said  Slicker  gloomily.  "  Tempest 
would  never  suspect.  He's  jealous  of  every  other  man, 
but  he  trusts  Heriot.  It's  a  bad  business,  honey,  and 
Heriot's  a  bad  lot.  So's  Andree.  I  can't  see  why  fellows 
make  such  a  fuss  over  the  girl.  Did  I  tell  you  I  saw  Robi- 
son  when  I  came  through  Fort  Saskatchewan?  It  was 
just  a  few  days  before  he  was  hung.  He'd  been  sick,  you 
know,  and  that  and  the  confinement  had  pulled  him  down. 
His  voice  was  as  hollow  as  a  bottle  after  Ogilvie  had  done 
with  it.  But  he  didn't  seem  to  worry  any.  '  How's  An- 
dree ?  '  he  asked,  right  away.  '  Pretty  as  ever,'  I  said. 
'  She's  shaken  Tempest,  and  isn't  wearing  the  willow 
over  it  either.'  My !  you  should  have  seen  how  that 
brightened  him  up.  Of  course,  I  didn't  tell  him  about 
Dick.  He  never  loved  Dick,  anyway." 

"  I  suppose  not.  Poke  that  log  back,  Slicker.  It's 
smoking." 

"  I  guess  he  just  thinks  of  Andree,  Andree  all  the  time," 
said  Slicker,  obeying.  "  I  wish  somebody  had  drowned  that 
girl  when  she  was  a  kitten — I  mean,  as  old  as  a  kitten. 
She's  done  more  harm  than  any  one  person  has  a  right  to, 
and  she  isn't  through  yet,  I  guess.  There  are  stacks  more 
fools  left  in  the  world.  I  suppose  she  is  a  beauty,  though. 
Heriot  has  made  some  glorious  pictures  of  her,  Forbes 
says.  He  writes  to  me  regularly.  Rather  a  nice  chap. 
You  remember  him,  honey  ?  " 

Slicker  continued  his  monologue,  giving  Jennifer  time 
to  recover  her  poise.  It  was  not  long  since  she  had  had 
a  letter  from  Dick:  one  of  those  interesting,  vivid  sketches 
of  daily  life  at  Grey  Wolf  which  he  knew  so  well  how  to 
write.  There  had  been  no  word  of  love  in  it.  He  had  only 
gained  permission  to  write  on  condition  that  there  should 
be  none.  But  neither  had  there  been  any  word  of  Andree. 
After  all,  why  should  there  be?  What  had  it  to  do  with 
Jennifer  if  Dick  painted  pictures  of  Andree,  or  if  he 


"I    WANT   THE   WEST    AGAIN"       305 

turned  to  Andree  for  comfort?  What  should  it  be  to  her 
except  a  gladness;  a  relief  that  he  was  not  going  to  spoil 
his  years  waiting  for  what  could  not  be?  She  did  not  think 
of  Tempest.  There  was  not  room  for  Tempest  even  as  a 
background  when  Dick  filled  the  foreground  of  her 
thoughts.  Hastily  her  mind  said  that  she  did  not  believe 
it,  but  that  she  hoped  it.  Surely  it  would  be  the  best 
thing  that  could  happen.  Then  she  returned  to  present 
life  to  hear  Slicker  say: 

"  And  so  that's  the  end  of  that  story." 

"  How  very  interesting,  Slicker  dear."  Jennifer  did  not 
hesitate  long  enough  to  be  ashamed  of  her  mendacity. 
"  Now  tell  me  all  about  Grey  Wolf." 

"Well,  I've  just  told  you " 

"  Of  course.  I  mean,  tell  me  some  more.  I  want  to 
know  about  Mr.  Bond,  who  always  brought  me  every  new 
wild-flower  he  found.  And  that  funny  old  Poley  at  the 
barracks,  and  Mrs.  Leigh.  And  Son-of-Lightning.  I  am 
so  glad  Mr.  Leigh  gave  him  that  little  shack  in  the  Hudson 
Bay  yard,  Slicker.  I  would  have  hated  to  think  of  him 
lonely." 

"  You  wouldn't  be  so  glad  if  you  were  an  employee  of 
the  H.  B.,  honey.  He'll  drive  them  all  to  drink  if  they 
can't  get  the  song  out  of  him  by  a  surgical  operation  or 
something.  My,  he  is  a  caution.  Well,  it's  very  nice 
over  here,  but  I'm  glad  I'm  not  going  to  stay,  Jennifer. 
There's  no  place  like  the  West  once  one  has  lived  in  it." 

"  Oh,  Slicker.  I  do  feel  that.  I  do.  I  want  to  go 
back.  Oh,  I  want  to !  " 

Her  voice  was  sharp  with  sudden  pain.  It  brought 
Slicker's  eyes  on  her. 

"  Why,  honey ;  you  had  such  a  bad  time  out  there,  I 
never  thought  you'd  want  to  go  back." 

"  Well."  Jennifer  looked  at  the  fire,  speaking  slowly. 
"  I  shall  hear  something  about  Harry  some  day,  dear ;  and 
it  is  easier  waiting  for  it  out  there.  Here — it  is  a  little 
difficult  just  occasionally.  You  see,  Harry  has  disappeared, 
and — and,  of  course,  all  sorts  of  stories  about  it  came 
East.  Nearly  everybody  is  perfectly  sweet  to  me,  but 
there  are  a  few — like  Mrs.  Chichester — I  know  she  just 
comes  to  see  if  she  can  find  anything  out " 


306  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  Damn  her,"  exploded  Slicker.  "  No,  I  won't  beg  your 
pardon,  Jennifer.  Lam  the  man  of  the  family,  and  you 
should  have  told  me  this  before." 

"  Dear,  there  is  really  nothing  to  tell."  Jennifer  patted 
the  smooth,  sunburnt  cheek.  "  Perhaps  I  imagine  it  all.  But 
I  don't  feel  that  houses  can  ever  take  the  place  of  trees  and 
lakes  again.  I  want  the  West.  Oh,  I  want  the  West." 

Slicker  did  not  know  that  Jennifer  had  left  her  heart 
there.  But  he  agreed. 

"  Go  back,  then,  honey.  You  could  get  your  old  house 
for  a  song  any  day.  Hamilton's  wife  hates  the  place,  and 
Hamilton  is  a  sheep.  He  does  as  he's  told,  and  if  ^ou 
offered  there'd  be  no  trouble.  But — there's  been  a  lot  of 
talk,  you  know." 

"  I  know.     But — in  what  particular  way  ?  " 

"  You  know  things  were  said  about  you  and  Heriot." 
Slicker  frowned  at  the  fire.  "  /  know  it  all  for  lies,  of 
course.  But  if  you  go  back — you  may  as  well  know  it, 
Jennifer — there  are  some  who'll  say  that  you  came  to 
hunt  him  up  over  this  Andree  business." 

"  Oh ! "  Jennifer  felt  her  face  burn.  "  I  never 

thought "  she  said  in  a  choked  voice.  "  I  never 

thought  of — you  didn't  think  I  meant  to  go  back,  Slicker? 
I  couldn't  go  there ! " 

Slicker  slid  his  arm  round  her,  drawing  her  head 
against  his  shoulder. 

"  Honey,  dear,  did  I  do  it  clumsily?  I'm  so  sorry. 
What  with  brutes  like  Ducane  and  Heriot  I  guess  you've 
had  enough  of  me.  Best  stay  where  you  are  with  the 
little  auntie,  and  when  I  get  a  post  I'll  have  you  both  up 
to  keep  house  for  me,  if  it's  any  place  short  of  Herschel 
Island.  I  will  only  be  at  Regina  three  or  four  months, 
you  know,  and  I'll  write  and  tell  you  every  last  thing 
about  it,  honey." 

He  kept  his  word  faithfully,  and  each  week  through 
those  months  of  snow  and  frost  brought  her  a  letter  headed 
"  Regina  Barracks  ":  a  letter  that  was  a  medley  of  boyish 
slang  and  manly  thought  and  frank  love  for  herself.  There 
were  fervid  descriptions  of  "  our  mess,"  and  "  my  horse," 
interlarded  with  tales  of  the  "  swank  recruit "  who  "  came 
such  a  buster  "  in  riding-school,  and  the  "  tiger  of  a  drill- 


"  I    WANT    THE    WEST    AGAIN  "       307 

sergeant  who  thinks  he  owns  the  universe — with  all  the 
'  h's  '  left  out  of  it."  Once  there  was  mention  of  a  cor- 
poral's love  affair  which  came  to  an  untimely  end;  and 
then,  through  dissertations  on  love  and  girls,  Slicker  ended : 
"  I'm  glad  you're  the  kind  of  girl  you  are,  honey.  I'd  have 
had  to  disown  you  if  you  were  like  some  that  a  fellow 
runs  across.  By  the  way,  what  is  that  Miss  Barrymore 
like,  really?  You  might  remember  me  to  her  when  you 
see  her,  and  ask  her  if  she'd  like  some  Indian  moccasins. 
She  admired  mine." 

Jennifer  put  down  the  letter  and  laughed  with  her  eyes 
full. 

"  Oh,  Slicker,  Slicker,"  she  said.  "  You're  not  going  to 
meet  girls  like  Angela  Barrymore  for  years  to  come,  dear. 
It  will  be  the  Mackenzie  district  and  the  Esquimaux  for 
you,  perhaps;  or  a  little  selection  full  of  third-grade 
people.  Or  a  place  like  Grey  Wolf  among  the  breeds 
and  Indians.  For  that's  the  way  you've  chosen  for  your 
life-work,  dear  old  Slicker." 

When  Christmas  was  past  he  wrote  again ;  blotted  sheets 
full  of  delight.  "  Just  think,  honey ;  the  C.  O.  told  me  the 
other  day  that  I'd  probably  be  sent  out  before  my  time 
was  up.  Patted  me  on  the  back  mota — (can't  spell  the 
beast) — and  said  I  was  a  good  boy,  and  I  went  and  tum- 
bled over  myself  in  the  Gym  for  a  solid  hour  to  work  off 
my  bloated  pride.  Hope  my  boss  will  be  more  Tempest's 
shape  than  Heriot's.  And  I  hope  it  won't  be  too  civilised. 
I  don't  want  to  do  the  goose-step  along  the  pavement  of  a 
nasty  proper  little  town.  Guess  I  could  keep  down  a 
better  job  than  that.  And — honey — perhaps  I'll  come 
across  Ducane  for  myself.  I  won't  shy  off  any  in  letting 
him  know  what  I  think  of  him,  I  promise." 

Jennifer  folded  that  letter  with  tight  lips.  Slicker  never 
dared  speak  of  Ducane  to  her  face.  And  not  to  anyone 
did  she  dare  speak  of  him  herself.  He  had  made  life  too 
hard ;  too  cruelly  bitter.  And  for  his  sake  it  must  be  bitter 
all  her  days. 

It  was  long  since  Dick  had  written  to  her;  longer  still 
since  she  had  written  to  him.  The  news  which  Slicker  had 
brought  tormented  her  night  and  day,  and  Dick's  utter 
silence  put  the  seal  of  truth  to  it. 


308  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

She  did  not  know  that  he  was  afraid  to  write  because 
the  cloud  which  hung  over  him  would  surely  have  dark- 
ened his  words,  and  because  he  was  ashamed  to  tell  what 
that  cloud  might  be. 

He  avoided  Andree  because  he  feared  her,  and  he 
avoided  Tempest  for  much  the  same  reason.  But  his 
feeing  towards  Tempest  almost  deepened  into  hate  very 
shortly;  for  Tempest  had  saved  his  honour  by  the  very 
thing  which  had  caused  Dick  to  lose  his.  Tempest  had 
taken  hold  of  his  work  again.  He  had  put  personal  inter- 
ests from  him,  and  flung  himself  into  the  wider,  fuller 
river  of  the  life  about  him.  Labour  was  his  salvation  as 
it  has  been  the  salvation  of  many  a  man  before  him,  and 
because  his  only  chance  lay  in  giving  his  all  to  it,  he 
gave;  lifelessly,  sorrowfully,  at  first,  but  day  by  day  with 
strengthening  fibres.  The  very  tone  of  Grey  Wolf  began 
to  alter.  It  was  known  that  the  Inspector  was  "  watching 
out,"  here  and  there  and  everywhere  else,  and  men  braced 
up  under  the  flash  of  his  eyes  and  the  lash  of  his  tongue 
when  Tempest  went  to  sweep  the  refuse  of  the  hidden 
places  out  into  the  sunlight. 

He  challenged  criticism  and  obvious  retort  everywhere, 
but  he  did  not  get  it.  For  if  he  did  not  spare  others 
neither  did  he  spare  himself,  and  his  honesty  there  did 
for  him  what  nothing  else  could  have  done.  But  of  the 
real  Tempest,  the  man  of  the  glad  ideals  and  the  frank 
friendships,  there  seemed  nothing  left;  and  Dick  knew 
why.  He  knew  that  Tempest  could  probably  have  for- 
given and  forgotten  anything  but  that  treachery;  and 
realisation  of  this  haunted  him,  driving  the  sin  of  it  home 
to  him  past  his  attempted  unconcern  and  impatient  resent- 
ment and  his  cynical  knowledge  that  he  was  no  worse  than 
many  another. 

Dick  had  saved  Tempest  at  danger  to  himself,  and  that 
danger  grew,  embittering  him  as  time  went  by.  Andree 
alone  made  his  life  difficult  and  unpleasant,  for  she  up- 
braided and  pleaded  and  coquetted  and  tormented  him 
whenever  occasion  arose.  Once,  catching  him  in  the  wood- 
trail  by  the  lake  on  a  cold  evening  when  the  sinking  sun 
left  a  rose  red  bank  along  the  indigo-blue  clouds  she 
threatened  him;  and  he,  being  cold  and  tired  and  hungry 


"I   WANT    THE    WEST    AGAIN"       309 

from  a  long  day's  patrol,  struck  her  across  the  clutching 
hands  with  the  little  switch  he  carried.  It  was  a  light 
blow,  but  it  made  her  spring  back,  glaring  like  a  wild  cat. 

"  I  hate  you,"  she  gasped.  '*  I  hate  you.  I  will  keel 
you.  Some  day  I  will  make  you  keel." 

"  You  are  welcome  to  try."  He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  I  don't  know  that  I  want  to  prevent  you.  Will  you 
leave  me  alone  now?  " 

"  To  be  whipped,"  she  said  through  her  teeth.  "  Ah ! 
To  be  whipped!  I  hate  you." 

"  That's  the  most  cheerful  thing  I've  heard  for  a  long 
time,"  said  Dick  dryly.  "  Stick  to  it,  my  dear  girl ; "  and 
he  pushed  past  her  and  went  back,  leaving  her  standing 
in  the  trail. 

That  night  he  tried  for  the  fifth  time  to  write  to  Jen- 
nifer. But  it  was  of  no  use.  His  own  thoughts  and  his 
own  will  had  made  of  this  matter  a  thing  so  sordid  and 
dishonourable  that  he  could  not  put  down  in  words  for 
her  to  read,  and  he  could  not  write  to  her  and  not  speak 
of  it.  He  was  not  even  sorry  for  Andree  now.  He  was 
not  even  glad  for  Tempest.  And  at  that  moment  he 
heard  Tempest  in  the  passage  speaking  to  Bond. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Tempest.  "  You  may  depend  on  me. 
I'll  have  it  attended  to  at  once." 

Dick  laughed  a  little,  biting  on  his  pipe-stem.  It  was 
he  who  had  ensured  that  Tempest  should  speak  and  act 
so  again.  But  where  was  his  own  reward?  He  had  lost, 
half -unfolded,  the  big  case  which  was  to  have  meant  so 
much  to  him.  He  had  lost  his  friend;  he  had  lost  such 
self-respect  as  he  had,  and  life  seemed  a  deadlock,  with 
little  capacity  for  more  pleasure  or  pain  in  it.  Then, 
because  it  is  not  in  nature  that  a  deadlock  can  continue 
for  very  long,  one  morning  when  spring  was  near  and  the 
first  waveys  flew  north  again,  Tempest  sent  for  him  into 
the  office.  There  were  some  official  letters  on  the  desk, 
and  Tempest's  manner  was  fully  as  official. 

"  I  am  ordered  to  make  an  investigatory  patrol  through 
the  uncharted  land  between  Great  Slave  Lake  and  Fuller- 
ton,"  he  said.  "  Flora,  fauna,  geological  conditions,  inhab- 
itants, and  so  on.  I  am  to  take  three  men  with  me,  and 
vour  name  is  mentioned  as  one  of  the  three.  We  leave  as 


310  THE    LAW-BRIXGERS 

soon  as  the  rivers  are  clear  of  ice,  and  will  be  gone  eight 
months  or  perhaps  a  year.  These  are  my  official  instruc- 
tions; but  I  am  told  to  report  if  either  of  us  are  unfit 
for  the  journey.  It  will  be  a  rough  one,  and  will  need 
picked  men.  Have  you  anything  to  say  ?  " 

His  eyes  were  colder  and  the  lines  of  his  face  harder 
than  they  used  to  be.  But  he  had  complete  control  of 
himself,  and  Dick  had  never  seen  him  without  it  since 
that  night  which  neither  would  forget. 

"  I  am  quite  fit  for  the  work,"  said  Dick.  He  smiled 
slightly.  "  Let  us  hope  that  the  other  two  will  provide 
the  social  element." 

"  We  will  do  the  work.     That  is  all  which  matters." 

"  You  have  always  said  so." 

The  delicate  inflection  of  the  sneer  brought  the  blood 
to  Tempest's  face. 

"  I  owe  you  recognition  for  what  you  have  done  for 
me,"  he  said.  "  Do  not  think  that  I  forget  it — or  that 
I  forget  your  motive  in  doing  it.  Tell  Kennedy  that  I 
want  to  see  him  at  once — before  he  goes  out." 

For  both  men  a  new  interest  came  into  life  after  that. 
The  ordinary  futile  daily  complaints  seemed  less  irritating 
now  that  there  was  a  horizon  of  change  to  round  them. 
As  always  there  was  the  freighter  who  had  contracted 
for  ordinary  wage  in  carting  and  who  demanded  more  be- 
cause unlooked-for  conditions  had  arisen;  there  was  the 
breed  who  had  sold  his  land  and  who  could  not  under- 
stand that  he  must  not  continue  to  live  on  it;  there  was 
the  Indian  who  had  traded  a  half-dozen  skins  to  Moore 
and  Holland,  and  who,  on  hearing  that  he  could  get  a 
better  price  elsewhere,  required  them  back  again;  and 
there  were  a  thousand  more  of  the  needless,  inevitable 
things  to  be1  got  through  as  winter  died  under  the  breath 
of  spring  and  the  ice  went  out,  and  colour  and  life  came 
throbbing  back  to  the  land. 

And  there  was  work  to  be  done  for  this  patrol  also. 
New  and  specially-tested  Peterborough  canoes  were  needed. 
A  good  pair  of  field-glasses  were  indispensable;  also  a 
camera;  a  strong  and  light  outfit  of  cooking,  surveying  and 
other  equipments ;  besides  tinned  foods  and  everything  else 
which  could  be  compressed  into  the  smallest  compass. 


"I    WANT    THE    WEST    AGAIN"       311 

Tempest  had  to  take  a  journey  to  Winnipeg  in  connection 
with  these  arrangements,  and  on  his  return  he  stayed  an 
hour  with  Randal  at  Pitcher  Portage.  Slackness  of  effort 
and  shortness  of  funds,  combined  with  a  divided  interest 
at  headquarters,  had  held  back  the  work  on  the  telegraph- 
line,  and  Randal  still  continued  to  live  in  his  little  shack 
and  to  connect  himself  with  the  world  by  his  little  key  on 
the  lonely  river-rim  of  the  Portage. 

Randal  was  cooking  his  mid-day  meal  when  Tempest 
came  to  the  door.  The  shack  was  as  crowded  and  uncom- 
fortable as  it  ever  was ;  but  Tempest  noticed  a  deep-worn 
track  straight  from  it  to  the  tepee  among  the  spruces,  and 
when  he  walked  in  he  found  a  couple  of  half-Indian  babies 
sprawling  with  the  dogs  on  the  earth  floor  and  chewing 
strips  of  raw  bacon.  Randal  pushed  the  living  tangle  of 
content  aside  with  his  foot  and  hastened  to  sets  beans  and 
bannock  before  Tempest,  and  Tempest  smiled,  remember- 
ing. 

"  Got  the  better  of  yon  at  last,  have  they,  Randal  ?  " 
he  asked. 

Randal  reddened  up  his  swarthy  skin,  and  clattered 
knives  and  forks  with  embarrassment. 

"  Why — I  guess  they  can't  help  it,  the  little "  he 

said.  "  Canadian-born  they  are,  anyways."  He  jerked 
his  thumb  at  the  smaller  of  the  two  where  it  lay  on  its 
chest,  sucking  hard,  and  staring  with  round,  unwinking 
eyes. 

"  Near  died  this  winter,  she  did,"  he  remarked.  "  Croup 
or  colic  or  suthin',  an'  them  domned  parents  didn't  know 
what  to  do  no  more'n  nuthin'.  So  I  up  an'  het  a  biler 
o'  water  an'  shoves  her  inter  it.  Tell  her  she  looked  cute 
settin'  there — like  a  little  brown  squ'r'l,  an'  hangin'  onter 
me  finger  like  grim  death  fer  a  nigger.  So — she  pulled 
around,  an'  she  a-took  a  shine  ter  me,  someways.  Like 
she  was  wonderin'  what  I'd  be  like  s'posin'  I  was  tried 
out  fer  good.  Git  away  out  o'  this,  Abosti.  Git!  You 
won't  find  no  bootlaces  ter  chew  here." 

He  lifted  the  little  solemn  armful,  and  Tempest  chucked 
it  under  the  round,  brown  chin. 

"  That's  right,  Randal,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "  After  all, 
they  are  going  to  be  our  colonists,  you  know.  We  must 


THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

make  the  best  stuff  we  can  out  of  them.  She's  not  likely 
to  be  one  of  those  hysterical  nuisances  who  are  always  in 
the  doctor's  hands,  anyway." 

"  Not  much !  Hoe  her  own  row  all  right,  won't  yer, 
girlie?  Sure,  sir.  I'll  attend  about  them  messages  right 
away." 

Tempest  rode  on  into  Grey  Wolf  with  his  eyes  softened. 
Randal's  life  was  cruelly  circumscribed;  terribly  lonely. 
But  he  had  found  the  compensation.  Was  Tempest  so 
much  a  lesser  man  than  Randal  that  he  could  not  also 
find  the  compensation? 

Early  in  the  next  month  came  the  last  night  at  Grey 
Wolf,  and  Tempest  walked  for  long  under  the  cotton- 
woods,  seeing  the  lights  which  he  would  not  know  any 
more  blink  out  along  the  dimming  street.  For  it  was  not 
likely  that  he  would  ever  come  back  to  Grey  Wolf,  and 
it  was  not  likely  that  after  to-morrow  he  would  ever  again 
see  Grange's  Andree.  The  whole  of  him  was  shrinking 
from  the  future  which  would  possibly  be  Andree's.  He 
seldom  spoke  to  her  now,  and  he  seldom  spoke  to  Dick. 
He  could  ask  no  questions  there.  He  could  only  fear. 
He  could  only  hate  with  a  bitter  helplessness  the  man 
whom  Andree  loved.  And  he  could  do  nothing  more.  He 
with  his  hands  tied,  and  the  great  silent  North  waiting  to 
swallow  him. 

For  long  he  walked  under  the  cotton-woods,  and 
then,  sharply,  leaping  through  his  brain  came  the 
thought: 

"  She  was  a  good  woman — and  young  enough  to  under- 
stand. Perhaps  she  would  look  after  Andree." 

He  wheeled;  went  swiftly  into  his  office,  and  wrote  one 
of  his  direct,  clearly-put  letters  to  Jennifer. 

Dick  also  wrote  to  Jennifer  that  evening.  He  had 
meant  to  go  without  it,  but  in  his  packing  he  had  come 
on  the  little  millboard  painting  of  her  which  he  had 
always  carried  until  shame  made  him  put  it  away.  In 
the  little  bunk-room  he  stood  still,  staring  down  on  the 
bright  face  in  the  candlelight,  and  his  eyes  were  grim.  For 
the  difference  between  the  centre  of  effort  and  the  centre 
of  lateral  direction  was  too  great  in  Dick.  He  needed  a 
hand  on  the  tiller,  and  Fate  had  denied  him  the  only  two 


«I    WANT    THE    WEST    AGAIN"       313 

hands  which  he  would  have  allowed  there.  Or  was  it  his 
own  reckless  temper  which  had  denied  him? 

Suddenly  Kennedy  came  clattering  upstairs  cheerfully, 
and  Dick  thrust  the  picture  back  in  his  breast  and  finished 
his  packing.  But  before  he  slept  he  wrote  a  few  brief 
lines  to  Jennifer. 

That  letter  went  East  by  the  same  mail  as  Tempest's ; 
but  when  they  lay  in  her  lap  together  Jennifer  opened 
Tempest's  first.  And  after  that  she  picked  up  the  sheet 
and  the  torn  envelope  and  the  other  envelope  with  that 
familiar  black  writing,  and  carried  them  all  up  to  her 
room  and  locked  the  door  on  herself.  Twice  over  she  read 
Tempest's  letter.  Its  quiet,  curbed  language  told  very 
little;  not  much  more  than  Slicker  had  told.  But  it  made 
her  fear  to  open  that  other  letter.  Her  pulses  beat  until 
they  stifled  her,  and  her  eyes  were  blurred.  She  knew, 
with  a  sharpness,  with  a  terrible  sureness,  that  Dick  meant 
more  to  her  than  anything — than  anyone.  And  was  this 
written  to  say  that  she  did  not  mean  anything  to  him 
any  more?  She  set  her  teeth  in  her  lip,  ripped  the  envel- 
ope, and  pulled  out  the  big  sheet  with  its  strong  black 
writing.  There  were  only  a  few  lines  in  the  middle  of 
it. 

"  I  go  North  in  the  morning  for  perhaps  a  year.  I 
have  tried  to  pull  a  man  out  of  the  mud  and  got  further 
in  myself  than  I  expected.  You  will  understand  that  this 
was  likely  to  happen  to  me.  And  understand  that  you  are 
in  my  life  and  my  heart  and  my  very  soul.  I  could  not 
tear  you  out  though  I  tried  until  the  world's  end,  Jen- 
nifer." 

The  heavy  twist  of  his  initials  finished  it,  and  Jennifer 
stared  at  it  with  flushed  cheeks  and  shining  eyes.  She 
had  no  right  to  be  glad.  But  she  was  glad;  frankly,  glo- 
riously glad.  This  good-bye  of  his  on  the  edge  of  one  of 
those  long  plunges  into  the  unknown  held  none  of  the 
suave,  idle  words  with  which  he  could  cover  his  thoughts 
so  well.  It  was  a  flagrant  disobedience  of  her  commands. 
It  was  a  daring  defiance  of  all  which  Tempest's  letter 
told.  It  gave  no  explanation,  no  apology,  no  penitence. 


314  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

She  had  no  right  to  be  glad.  She  should  have  been 
angry,  for  he  flung  his  words  at  her,  challenging  her  to 
love  him  the  less  for  all  his  misdeeds  and  his  failures  and 
his  selfishness.  And  instead  she  laughed  a  little;  knowing 
that  she  could  not,  and  knowing,  too,  the  glory  of  that 
renunciaition  which  forbade  them  ever  to  tell  each  other 
these  things  face  to  face. 

That  night,  kneeling  by  her  mother's  bed  in  the  dark, 
Jennifer  spoke  of  her  desire  to  go  back  to  Grey  Wolf. 
She  could  not  tell  the  reason.  But  she  knew  that  the  duty 
which  Dick  owed  to  Grange's  Andree  and  which  Tempest, 
without  laying  undue  stress,  had  clearly  lined,  was  hers 
to  discharge.  How  deep  that  obligation  might  be  she  did 
not  know.  Why  she  resented  it  so  little  she  did  not  know. 
But  she  did  know  that  little  lonely  Grey  Wolf  by  the  far- 
away northern  river  called  her  as  no  other  place  on  earth 
had  ever  called  her.  Of  all  this  she  said  nothing  to  her 
mother,  but  there  was  much  understood  between  the  two 
which  even  the  tenderest  love  must  leave  unsaid.  The  elder 
woman  laid  her  widowed  hand  on  the  young  hand  which 
was  so  infinitely  worse  than  widowed. 

"  This  may  be  too  hard  for  you,  Jennifer,"  she  said. 
"And  for  more  than  you.  Have  you  thought  of  that?" 

"  Yes,  dear.  But  I  must  go.  Over  there  I  shall  hear — 
little  things.  And  I  can't  do  without  them.  They  are  all 
that  is  left  in  my  life." 

The  mother  was  silent.  She  had  neither  right  nor 
power  to  venture  here.  It  was  beyond  her  control,  be- 
yond her  understanding.  Her  daughter  had  won  her  way 
down  strange  paths  where  neither  love  nor  guarding  could 
hedge  her  in.  But  one  thing  she  knew,  and  she  spoke  it. 

"  If  you  do  go  I  will  go  with  you,  Jennifer." 

"Oh,  mother  of  mine,  would  you?  Truly,  would  you? 
But  you  might  get  your  dear  aristocratic  nose  frost-bitten 
in  the  winter.  And  there  are  so  few  of  the  comforts  you're 
accustomed  to." 

"  You  are  the  principal  comfort  which  I'm  accustomed 
to.  I  can  do  without  the  other  things,  but  not  without 
you,  darling." 

Jennifer  put  her  lips  to  the  fine  old  face. 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  selfish,"  she  said.     "  But  I  shall 


"I    WANT    THE    WEST    AGAIN"       315 

blow  the  roof  off  something  if  I  have  to  stay  here  much 
longer.  And  you'll  love  the  Indian  babies,  mother  mine. 
I'll  steal  one  in  a  moss-bag  for  you.  Mrs.  Grange  has 
got  so  many  that  she'd  never  miss  two  or  three." 

She  mentioned  Moosta's  name  easily,  but  she  could  not 
speak  of  Andree.  Her  mother  could  neither  help  nor 
understand  there.  She  could  not  be  expected  to.  For 
Jennifer's  own  need  she  had  found  the  solution  to  the 
thing  which  had  troubled  her.  Dick  had  redeemed  Tem- 
pest at  the  cost  of  some  dishonour  to  himself,  and  possibly 
some  well-deserved  shame,  and  he  had  been  man  enough 
not  to  ask  forgiveness  where  it  was  not  likely  to  be  ac- 
corded. But,  because  Grange's  Andree  was  also  a  woman 
who  loved  him  and  who  could  never  come  near  him  in 
life,  Jennifer  felt  a  thrill  of  joy  and  thankfulness  that 
it  should  be  for  her  to  give  comfort  here  and  to  untie 
the  threads  that  Dick's  careless  hands  had  knotted. 

She  dreamed  that  night  of  the  ways  whereby  that  life 
which  the  great  North  was  absorbing  should  cross  tracks 
with  her  own  again.  The  stray  word  of  a  breed  who  had 
passed  him  on  the  rivers.  Indians  coming  in  with  the 
winter  furs,  who  knew  the  trails  he  went.  A  factor,  or 
a  missionary,  perhaps,  at  whose  house  he  had  stayed. 
Letters  brought  by  the  steamer  and  written  long  months 
before.  The  wide  brooding  majesty  of  the  North  closed 
round  her,  and  those  long,  calm  days  on  the  Athabaska 
were  clear  to  Jennifer  as  she  fell  asleep;  and  in  place  of 
the  rattling  cars  she  heard  again  the  water  parting  at  the 
prow,  and  instead  of  the  flaring  light  across  the  street 
she  saw  the  moon-reflection,  deep  and  serene  and  glorious, 
in  the  bosom  of  the  drowsing  river. 

Three  telegrams  and  two  letters  secured  the  old  house 
on  the  Lake  to  Jennifer  again,  and  in  the  midst  of  her 
packing  came  another  letter  from  Slicker,  written  from 
Saskatoon.  He  enclosed,  for  Jennifer's  benefit,  young 
Forbes'  description  of  the  leaving  of  the  Long  Patrol  from 
Grey  Wolf  and  Grange's  Andree's  part  in  the  matter. 

"I  guess  it  was  a  pretty  shady  thing  for  Dick  to  chuck 
her  away  as  he  did,"  commented  Slicker.  "  Of  course, 
Andree  is  the  limit,  all  right.  But  it  must  have  been  a 
shindy,  as  you'll  see  from  what  Lin  Forbes  says. 


316  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

" '  They'd  been  keeping  their  mouth  shut  with  both 
hands  as  to  date  and  time  of  leaving,'  wrote  young  Forbes. 
'  But  it  leaked  out  somehow;  and  when  we  all  got  down 
to  the  steamer  Andree  was  waltzing  around  like  a  crazy 
thing.  She  froze  on  to  Dick — gave  him  a  devil  of  a  tiine» 
And  there  was  Tempest  standing  on  the  wharf  and  waiting. 
I  tell  you  it  was  pretty  sick  to  see.  I  don't  guess  he  ever 
meant  more  than  a  bit  of  fooling.  That's  Dick,  you  know. 
He  has  an  eye  for  every  pretty  girl,  and  Andree  is  uncom- 
monly pretty,  though  she  has  gone  off  a  bit  lately.  But 
he  got  served  for  it.  She  was  all  out.  Let  him  have  it 
good  and  strong.  He  made  the  best  of  it,  I  guess.  Just 
laughed,  and  kissed  her  in  front  of  us  all,  and  told  her  not 
to  be  a  little  fool.  Then  the  boat  backed  off,  and  there 
was  Andree  running  over  her  ankles  into  the  water,  and 
crying  out,  "  Dick !  Dick !  "  But  he'll  never  come  back 
to  her.  He  knows  a  trick  worth  two  of  that.  But  he  wiped 
Tempest's  eye  over  the  business,  and  I  reckon  Tempest 
has  too  much  grit  to  forgive  him  easily.  Those  two  are 
about  as  friendly  as  a  couple  of  wolf-bred  huskies  these 
days.' 

"  I  guess  there'll  be  something  doing  before  they  part 
company,"  added  Slicker.  "  Dick '11  be  sorry  for  his  devil- 
try before  he's  done.  Of  course  she  was  ruining  Tempest, 
and  this  has  straightened  him  up  again.  But  I  don't 
imagine  Dick  went  into  it  just  for  that.  He  isn't  built 
of  the  stuff  they  make  martyrs  out  of." 

Because  all  human  nature  is  irrational  Jennifer  did  not 
attempt  to  explain  to  herself  why  she  felt  more  pity  than 
anger  over  this.  Dick  might  have  treated  her  as  he  had 
treated  Andree,  and  she  could  have  forgiven  him ;  not  only 
because  the  elements  of  submission  and  self-renunciation 
are  very  strong  in  the  nature  of  most  women,  but  because, 
seeing  all  things  through  the  glass  of  her  own  clear  heart, 
she  believed  that  the  man  must  suffer  the  more  keenly  of 
the  two.  A  little  while  she  stood,  with  her  dainty  clothes 
strowed  round  her  on  floor  and  bed  and  in  the  open  boxes. 
Simple  they  were,  but  one  and  all  bore  just  that  nameless, 
elusive  charm  which  was  Jennifer's  own:  that  charm  which 
made  a  man,  standing  on  the  deck  of  a  little^rteamer  that 


chug-chugged  its  way  down  the  Great  Slave  River,  forget 
all  that  he  had  done  and  would  not  do,  and  hold  the 
memory  of  her  before  him,  hour  by  silent  hour,  drawing 
his  strength  for  the  future  therefrom. 

There  were  comments  which  it  was  better  that  Jennifer 
should  not  hear  when  she  came  again  to  Grey  Wolf.  But 
because  she  had  guessed  at  them,  and  met  them  in  her 
heart  long  since,  she  did  not  quail  at  them  now.  Son-of- 
Lightning  was  re-installed  in  his  shack  behind  the  kitchen, 
and  his  tuneless  singing  warmed  Jennifer's  spirit,  although 
it  made  her  mother  laugh  until  she  cried,  and  then 
say: 

"  You  must  make  him  exercise  his  voice  at  regular  hours 
only,  Jennifer.  Hours  when  I  go  walking  or  driving.  He 
will  kill  me  dead  if  I  have  to  hear  him  more  than  once 
a  week." 

"  I  could  never  make  him  understand  all  that,  dear," 
said  Jennifer.  "  But  I  might  explain  that  it  would  be 
a  terrible  thing  for  him  to  damage  his  throat  by  over- 
exertion  if  Clara  is  any  good  as  a  medium." 

Clara  was  the  breed  provided  by  Mrs.  Leigh  in  place 
of  the  original  Louisa.  She  lived  in  the  kitchen  and  drove 
the  staid  Toronto  servant  to  despair  five  times  a  day. 
"  But,"  as  Jennifer  said,  "  she  kept  Susan  from  being 
lonely,  and  even  something  to  worry  one  is  better  than 
isolation." 

Leigh  had  also  stocked  up  the  necessary  horses  and  pigs 
and  the  necessary  hired  man.  Moosta's  last  baby  but  one 
was  borrowed  for  a  week,  "  just  to  help  settle  them  in," 
according  to  Jennifer's  plea;  and  then  Jennifer  took  breath 
and  looked  round  on  the  dear  familiar  world  out  of  which 
the  dearest  and  most  familiar  elements  had  dropped. 
Moosta's  baby  was  the  deep-laid  plan  whereby  she  hoped 
to  trap  Andree.  For  she  knew  that  if  Grange's  Andree 
cared  for  any  things  on  earth  those  things  were  Grange's 
babies.  And  this  proved  true.  In  the  beginning  of  the 
second  week  Andree  stopped  Jennifer  outside  the  Hudson 
Bay  Store  and  spoke  to  her. 

"  Are  you  meaning  to  keep  Moosta's  Rosario  all  the 
time  ?  "  she  asked  abruptly. 

Jennifer   Ipoked   at   her   with    a   quickening   heart-beat. 


318  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

This  was  the  girl  who,  if  talk  told  truth,  loved  Dick  even 
as  Jennifer  loved  him,  and  by  a  better  right. 

"  Why,  no,"  she  said  hastily.  "  Did  you  want  him  back, 
Andree?  " 

"  I  gave  him  his  name,"  said  Andree.  "  Saw  it  in  a 
book.  It  does  seem  like  the  back-parlour  is  empty  with- 
out him." 

Jennifer  knew  that  there  were  a  round  dozen  more  in 
that  back-parlour.  But  she  understood.  It  is  not  the 
number  which  fill  up  a  place,  but  the  one. 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  she  said.  "  Would  you  like  to  come 
over  and  fetch  him  back,  Andree?  You  can  drive  out 
with  me,  and  I'll  bring  you  back  before  dark." 

Andree  drew  back,  shy  and  alarmed.  She  was  more 
the  wild  wood  animal  than  ever.  The  olive  oval  of  her 
face  was  thinner  and  paler,  and  there  was  a  strange, 
deeper  look  in  her  eyes. 

"  I — I  guess  it  no  matter  that  much,"  she  stammered. 
"  Peut-etre  you  bringing  him  back  soon." 

"  Well,"  said  Jennifer  artfully,  "  Mrs.  Grange  said  I 
could  keep  him  as  long  as  I  liked,  and  I  don't  think  it 
would  be  quite  civil  to  take  him  back  yet.  She  might 
think  I  was  tired  of  him.  Of  course  if  you  run  off  with 
him  that  is  a  different  matter." 

"  Moosta  would  hardly  notice  s'pose  he  back  or  not," 
said  Andree,  and  Jennifer  smothered  a  smile. 

"  Come  out  and  see  him,  anyway,"  she  said.  "  He  calls 
your  name,  Andree.  It  is  the  only  word  he  says." 

"  Ah !  Mon  petit !  "  The  girl's  face  lighted  up.  "  He 
is  not  to  forget,  the  blessed  one.  No!  Mon  petit  an?i 
Rosario." 

Then  she  recollected  herself  swiftly. 

"  Maybe  I  will  come  to-morrow — or  some  next  day," 
she  said,  and  disappeared  into  the  dark  of  the  side- 
passage  again. 

In  the  dusk  of  two  evenings  later  Jennifer  saw  Andree 
haunting  the  shadows  round  Son-of-Lightning's  shack,  and 
she  ran  out  and  brought  the  girl  in  to  the  warm  lighted 
room  where  Rosario  lay  before  the  fire,  kicking  blissfully  j 
on  his  little  back.     It  brought  Jennifer's  laugh  on  a  sob": 
to  see  the  girl  go  down  on  her  knees  and  tangle  her  curls 


I 


"I    WANT    THE    WEST    AGAIN"       319 

in  the  chubby  fingers,  and  coo  the  soft  Indian  baby-talk 
which  was  so  alien  to  the  white  woman.  And  Rosario 
chuckled  and  crowed;  tossing  his  arms  until  Andree  looked 
up  with  the  beautiful  face  laughing  through  her  hair. 

"II  m'aime,"  she  cried.  "He  do  like  me  best.  Dieu! 
It  is  me  best." 

Later  she  gathered  him  into  her  arms;  sitting  on  the 
floor  and  rocking  and  crooning  until  he  fell  asleep.  She 
took  no  count  of  Jennifer.  Women  never  entered  much 
into  Andree's  calculation  unless  they  got  in  her  way,  and 
Jennifer  was  deeply  thankful  that  the  girl  did  not  know 
how  much  this  woman  who  slipped  down  on  the  rug  beside 
her  stood  in  her  way. 

"  Andree,"  she  said ;  "  Mrs.  Grange  showed  me  a  very 
pretty  picture  of  you.  I  should  think  it  would  make  you 
feel  so  proud.  Mr.  Heriot  painted  it,  didn't  he?" 

"  Oui,"  said  Andree  on  a  long-drawn  breath. 

"  And  he  painted  others  too."  Jennifer's  voice  faltered 
a  little.  She  was  striving  to  crush  down  an  unworthy 
doubt.  But  the  girl  beside  her  was  so  beautiful,  so  very 
beautiful.  And  she  knew  that  she  was  plain.  "  Won't 
you  show  me  the  others  some  day,  Andree?" 

For  a  little  the  girl  was  silent.  Jennifer  saw  the  colour 
pulsing  in  her  face  and  the  flutter  of  her  breast.  Then 
Andree  cast  Rosario  aside  with  that  impetuosity  to  which 
he  was  so  accustomed  that  it  did  not  break  his  sleep  and 
hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  It  makes  me  go  seeck  inside  to  talk  'bout  him,"  she 
wailed.  "  I  do  not  know.  I  do  not  know.  I  not  care 
for  people  to  call  me  belle  any  more." 

Jennifer  breathed  sharply.  The  bent,  dark  head  blurred 
before  her  eyes.  Then  she  put  her  arm  round  the  shoul- 
ders and  drew -Andree's  head  against  her. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said  gently,  "  is  it  because  he  had  to  go 
away?  He  could  not  help  that,  Andree." 

As  usual  under  pressure  Andree  sloughed  off  all  reserve 
and  flung  her  heart  bare  to  Jennifer  as  she  had  done  to 
Dick. 

"  I  love  him,"  she  cried.  "  I  do  love  him  so  I  could 
^nel  him.  And  he  laugh  at  me.  He  kiss  me — and  laugh. 
The  place  burn.  It  burn  now.  One  day  he  say,  '  I  love 


320  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

you,  Andree.'  Now  he  laugh — and  for  two-three  months 
before  he  go  he  no  speak  to  me.  And  one  day  he  hit  me 
with  his  whip.  I  hate  him.  I  hate  him — ah,  mon  Dieu, 
J  love  him  so." 

Jennifer  controlled  her  voice  with  difficulty. 

"  And  you  think  he  does  not  love  you,  Andree  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  I  not  know.  Perhaps — and  perhaps  again.  But  I 
think  he  hate  me.  And  I  hate  him.  But  if  again  he  smile 
at  me — *h,"  she  broke  into  violent  sobbing;  "ah,  Dick, 
come  back.  I  not  hate  you.  Oh,  come  back  from  so  far 
away." 

"  If  he  told  you  that  he  loved  you "    Jennifer  could 

not  finish. 

"  Oh,  mais  vous  savez,  what  are  men.  To-day  to  kiss, 
to-morrow  to  hit.  Dick  did  hit  when  he  kiss.  He  was 
not  like  the  others.  They  did  pray  to  me.  Dick  made 
me  pray  to  him.  Ah !  "  she  shook  herself  free,  and  sat 
up,  biting  her  lips.  "  When  he  come  again  to  Grey  Wolf 
I  will  kill  him.  He  no  good,  anyway.  Before  he  go  he 
drink — he  drink  too  much  sometimes.  He  no  good.  And 
he  make  game  of  me.  Tres  bien !  I  make  much  game  of 
him.  There  are  plenty  more  love  Andree.  Ah!  I  do  hate 
him.  Mon  Dieu !  " 

Jennifer  could  not  handle  this  mood  any  more  than  Dick 
could  handle  the  softer  mood  of  that  other  night.  She 
shivered,  going  white  under  the  tense  fury  of  the  words. 
Dimly  she  recognised  that  there  were  elements  in  Andree 
which  she  could  never  understand,  even  as  there  were 
elements  in  Dick.  For  the  rugged  rocks  and  the  fierce 
winds  and  the  deep  secret  woods  were  the  forbears  of  their 
souls  in  the  days  when  Andree's  Indian  fathers  and  the 
roystering  gentlemen  adventurers  who  were  responsible  for 
Dick  had  known  this  young  land  of  Canada  as  no  men 
of  a  later  day  could  know  it. 

Andree  stood  up,  knotting  back  her  curls  with  swift,  skil- 
ful fingers. 

"  It  is  another  day  I  will  come  for  Rosario,"  she  said, 
and  then  Jennifer  found  her  feet  and  her  courage  to- 
gether. 

"  Come  soon,  Andree,"  she  said.     "  And  talk  to  me  as 


"I   WANT    THE    WEST    AGAIN"       321 

much  as  ever  you  want  to.  And  by  and  by,  perhaps,  you 
will  not  be  so  unhappy.  You  say  that  there  are  plenty 
more  people  who  care  for  you." 

"  Mais — they   are   not   Dick,"   said  Andree,   and   went 
away  out  into  the  night. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

"ON   THE    LONG   TRAIL*' 

"  Bio  BLANKET,  is  it?"  said  Gillington.  "Just  look  his 
name  up,  Otway.  Two  wives  arid  six  children,  eh?  Got 
them  all  here,  has  he?  Well,  Francois,  tell  him  to  go 
ahead  and  name  them  so  I'll  know  he  hasn't  swapped  any 
since  last  year.  Otway,  I  guess  I'll  want  out  another  box 
of  the  paper." 

The  Treaty-clerk  disappeared  into  the  little  tent,  and 
Gillington  pushed  his  hat  back  from  his  heated,  florid 
face,  and  nodded  as  the  immovable  Big  Blanket  introduced 
his  family,  one  by  one,  through  the  interpreter. 

"  Little  Cow,  she  old  wife,"  said  Big  Blanket,  thrust- 
ing the  wrinkled  wisp  of  womanhood  forward.  "  Glory- 
of-the-eyes,  she  new."  Then  he  ranged  up  the  berry- 
brown,  laughing  children,  and  told  them  over.  "  Violette. 
Piapot.  Song-of-all-the-birds.  Apisis.  Smoke.  Beak-of- 
the-eagle."  He  stretched  his  hands  for  the  little  packet 
of  dollar-bills,  done  up  neatly  in  fives,  as  Gillington  paid 
them  down  on  the  big  box  in  front  of  the  little  box  on 
which  he  sat. 

Word  by  word  Francois  translated  as  Gillington  spoke. 

"  Payuk,  nesoo,  nisto,  naoo,  nayanun,  Nikoowasik. 
Those  packets  are  for  the  children,  Big  Blanket.  Three 
more  lots  for  yourself  and  the  wives,  making  kakut  mita- 
tut  in  all.  Nine  sets  for  Big  Blanket,  Otway.  What's 
that,  Doc.?" 

The  heat  of  the  sun  poured  over  him  as  he  turned  where 
the  grey  smoke  from  a  mosquito-smudge  blew  sideways, 
hiding  and  revealing  the  silent  knots  of  Indians — Chipew- 
yans,  Doglegs  and  Yellow  Knives — who  had  come  to  Fort 
Resolution  on  the  Great  Slave  Lake  for  their  yearly  pay- 
ment of  the  Treaty  money.  And  this  Treaty  money  is  the 
pledge  of  the  Canadian  Government  that  it  will  stand  by 

322 


"ON    THE    LONG   TRAIL"  323 

the  children  of  the  North-West  to  the  extent  of  five  dol- 
lars yearly  to  every  man  and  woman  and  child  which  can 
produce  the  Treaty-tickets  carrying  his  or  her  name,  the 
number  of  his  band  and  family,  and  the  date  of  his  last 
payment. 

A  big  man  with  his  eyes  reddened  by  the  smoke-reek 
halted  at  Gillington's  elbow.  He  carried  a  brown  battered 
bag,  and  there  was  a  suggestion  of  strenuousness  above 
all  his  movements.  For  the  last  three  hours  he  had  been 
examining  wounds,  disease,  and  various  sicknesses  in  the 
colony  of  tepees  set  along  the  sandy  short,  and  those  hours 
had  been  very  full  indeed.  Because  many  of  the  distant 
tribes  take  their  doctor  as  they  take  their  Treaty-money, 
once  only  in  a  year. 

"  I've  just  seen  that  old  scoundrel,  Turquetil,"  he  said. 
"  He  and  his  son  had  a  fight,,  and  they're  more  or  less 
laid  out.  Send  them  their  Treaty  by  Charlie  Diamond, 
won't  you,  Gillington?  He'll  see  that  they  get  it." 

Gillington  growled  assent,  ticking  off  the  necessary  dol- 
lars for  Little  Hat  and  his  belongings.  Charlie  Diamond 
was  Chief  of  the  Canoe  River  Band  of  which  Turquetil 
was  an  unworthy  member. 

"  Sure,"  he  said.     "  Got  many  sick,  Sherwood  ?  " 

The  doctor  thrust  his  lip  out.  He  was  lighting  a  pipe 
with  eager  fingers. 

"  Same  as  usual,"  he  said.  "  If  only  the  Lord  had 
made  'em  able  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  cleanliness 
life  would  be  simplified.  Joseph  Iron  broke  his  leg  yes- 
terday, and  I  met  him  crawling  out  for  his  Treaty  just 
now.  For  the  land's  sake,  Gillington,  what  are  you  doing 
with  all  those  police?  Do  the  people  at  headquarters 
think  our  precious  lives  need  guarding?" 

Gillington  glanced  round  to  the  tent  where,  in  the  shade, 
three  khaki  uniforms  made  a  dull  blurr.  Two  more  walked 
the  stretch  of  sandy  level  immediately  behind  the  tepees. 
As  Gillington  looked  they  separated;  and  one  went  up  to 
the  barracks  and  the  other  came  down  towards  the  tent. 

"  Those  four  came  in  just  now,"  he  said.  "  A  patrol 
going  through  to  Fullerton.  Tempest  is  in  charge.  You 
remember  him?  The  man  who  was  made  Inspector  for 
his  moral  influence — and  a  few  more  reasons." 


334  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

He  made  the  introductions  briefly  as  Tempest  came  up, 
then  turned  to  his  work  again.  And  from  where  he  lay 
by  the  tent  with  his  hat  pulled  over  his  eyes  and  his  pipe 
going  fiercely  to  free  him  of  the  mosquitoes,  Dick  watched 
this  scene  which  had  been  so  familiar  to  him  in  other 
days:  on  the  Little  Slave  River;  on  the  Peace;  at  Ver- 
milion, and  which  never  grew  stale.  For  it  was  colour 
and  movement,  tragedy  and  comedy.  It  was  Life. 

He  lifted  on  his  elbow;  dragged  out  his  sketch-book,  and 
roughed  in  the  picture  with  a  charcoal  stub.  And  it  was 
a  picture  worth  while  to  the  man  who  could  see. 

Back  of  all  lay  the  broad  blue  line  of  the  lake  that 
lipped  the  sandy  beach.  Then  the  dirty  brown,  close-set 
jumble  of  tepees  half-hid  by  smoke  that  lifted  sometimes 
to  show  the  white  houses  of  the  Fort  beyond.  The  medley 
of  children  and  dogs  that  rolled,  laughing  and  yapping, 
round  the  tents.  The  fathers  and  mothers  of  the  race, 
crowding  round  the  Treaty-Payer;  pure  Mongolian  type, 
some  with  eager,  slant-eyes  for  the  "  sooneyahs "  which 
Gillington  was  dealing;  erect,  dignified  chiefs  who  ask 
help  of  the  white  man  against  none  but  the  white  man  and 
who  manipulate  their  family  quarrels  in  private ;  ill-made 
derelicts,  hauling  their  loose  store-clothes  tighter  round 
their  unwashed  bodies,  and  looked  on  with  disfavour  by 
the  sturdier  Dog-legs.  And  foremost  of  all,  the  little 
group  of  white  men:  Gillington  straddled  on  his  box,  with 
his  shirt  loose  at  the  thick  throat  and  the  sweat  dripping 
from  him  as  he  flung  his  jokes  and  genial  encouragements 
to  the  mercy  of  Francois*  interpretation,  seeing  in  answer 
the  white  of  eyes  and  teeth  flashing  out  suddenly  with  a 
coarsely-humorous  retort;  the  slim,  gentlemanly  Otway, 
with  the  furtive  eyes  which  told,  while  they  believed  they 
hid,  the  reason  which  had  brought  him  so  far  from  the 
land  and  the  class  which  bred  him;  Sherwood,  the  big- 
boned,  merry-eyed  doctor,  who  carried  his  lonely  beat  over 
a  good-sized  section  of  a  half-continent — Tempest. 

Dick  smudged  them  in;  longing  for  his  paints  to  dab  on 
the  raw  vermilion  of  that  Cree's  waist-scarf,  or  the  saffron 
tempered  by  dirt  of  that  woman's  shawl.  Or  the  blue  of 
the  lake,  and  the  warm  umbers  of  the  tepees,  and  the  pure 
ash-grey  of  a  dog  that  scratched  itself  at  Tempest's  feet. 


"ON    THE    LONG   TRAIL"  32S 

Tempest  he  did  not  care  to  look  at.  Through  those  long 
steamer  days  on  the  Athabaska  Dick  had  seen  more  of 
Tempest  than  he  ever  wished  to  see  again,  and  he  was 
dreading  the  plunge  into  the  wilderness  as  he  had  not 
dreaded  the  future  ever  before  in  all  his  life.  For  the  fret 
of  that  impotent  rage  which  we  feel  only  against  those 
whom  we  have  wronged  and  who  will  not  give  us  the  sat- 
isfaction of  justifying  ourselves  was  on  Dick,  by  day  and 
by  wakeful  night. 

Of  what  Tempest  thought  through  these  weeks  which 
held  them  so  closely  together  Dick  did  not  know.  There 
was  nothing  in  him  which  could  interpret  the  heart  of  this 
man  to  whom  the  higher  and  the  deeper  places  of  life  were 
open.  Of  late  he  had  sometimes  even  grown  to  fear  Tem- 
pest. The  utter  self-restraint  of  the  still  man  who  walked 
with  him  by  day  and  sat  beside  him  over  the  evening  fires 
when  neither  the  pipe-smoke  or  the  long  loneliness  could 
knit  them  together  into  more  than  casual  speech  had  its  ef- 
fect on  his  nerves  and  on  his  heart.  TempesJ;  was  com- 
pletely just  to  him;  completely  courteous  and  kind.  But 
Dick  understood  well  that  it  was  the  gentleman  in  Tem- 
pest which  owed  these  things  to  himself;  not  the  friend 
which  owed  them  to  Dick.  Not  once  did  he  suffer  Dick  to 
look  below  the  surface  of  his  quiet  manner;  and  Dick, 
knowing  the  savagery  in  himself  which  would  have  had 
satisfaction  for  a  wrong  done  him,  grew  uneasy  and  re- 
sentful, and  found  it  daily  more  difficult  to  keep  Tempest 
out  of  his  thoughts. 

It  was  Dick's  nature  to  demand  an  eye  for  an  eye,  and 
until  now  he  had  always  felt  contempt  for  the  man  who 
asked  less.  But  he  could  not  feel  contempt  for  Tempest. 
He  knew  what  he  had  done  to  this  man ;  he  knew  the  tor- 
ment which  he  had  given  him  to  bear,  and  he  knew  that 
Tempest  was  still  the  stronger.  He  would  not  soon  forget 
his  good-bye  to  Andree  on  the  bank  at  Grey  Wolf,  with 
Tempest  standing  by.  And  he  knew  that  the  fear  which 
walked  with  Tempest  eternally  was  the  fear  for  this  girl 
whom  Dick  had  waked  to  the  realisation  of  love  and  de- 
pendence and  had  flung  away  to  seek  helplessly  and  blindly 
for  what  she  could  find  instead.  There  could  be  no  forgive- 
ness for  such  a  thing  as  this,  and  Dick  did  not  expect  it. 


326  THE    LAW-BRIXGERS 

He  did  not  want  it,  for  Tempest  would  have  seemed  to  him 
less  than  human  if  he  could  have  given  it.  But,  gradually, 
he  was  realising,  keenly,  bitterly,  that  he  was  controlled 
and  driven  by  the  blind  forces  of  the  universe  only,  and 
that  for  Tempest  and  Jennifer  there  was  a  higher  grade. 

Life  made  sport  of  them  and  tied  their  feet,  even  as  his 
were  tied.  But  it  could  not  break  their  spirits.  They  were 
nearer  that  supreme  thing  which  Jennifer  called  God,  and 
which  Tempest  had  once  called  Understanding.  And  for 
the  sacrifice  of  self  which  that  required  of  them  they  had 
surely  found  the  compensation.  And  then  Dick  rolled 
over,  looking  straight  at  Tempest  where  he  talked  with 
Sherwood  in  the  sunlight,  and  he  wondered  if  this  man 
was  to  use  for  Canada  only  all  those  great  and  rich  gifts 
for  which  his  life  had  qualified  him. 

Gillington  and  Otway  were  speaking  together,  low- 
voiced,  and  before  them  stood  an  Indian  girl  with  restless, 
beseeching  eyes  which  made  Dick  think  of  Andree's  as  he 
had  seen  them  sometimes.  Her  coarse,  black  hair  was 
parted  over  the  young  forehead  and  hung  on  her  shoulders 
in  two  thick  plaits.  There  was  a  little  moss-bag  baby  in 
the  curve  of  her  arm,  and  two  round-eyed,  tottering,  elder 
babies  clung  to  her  ragged  black  skirts.  She  looked  so 
very  young  and  undefended,  and  Dick  felt  curious  to  know 
what  was  puzzling  the  white  men  in  connection  with  her. 
Gillington  sat  up  at  last,  pushing  his  hat  back.  His  ruddy, 
jolly  face  was  troubled. 

"  Sorry,  Leaf-of-the-woods,"  he  said.  "  I  can't  do  it. 
I'll  give  you  Treaty  for  yourself  and  the  other  two;  but  I 
can't  let  you  have  it  for  the  baby." 

The  baby,  as  though  understanding  its  repudiation,  gave 
a  little  cry  where  the  girl  moved  it  on  her  arm.  Tempest 
turned  with  a  half-spoken  sentence  on  his  lips.  It  broke 
as  he  looked  at  Leaf-of-the-woods,  and  Dick  knew  why. 
Those  soft  wide  eyes  had  brouglyj  Andree  to  Tempest  also. 

"What's  wrong?"  he  asked  of  Gillington,  and  Gilling- 
ton rubbed  his  nose  vexedly. 

"  Why — she  can't  account  for  the  kiddie.  He  isn't  one 
of  Canada's  legitimate  citizens,  and  I  can't  pay  him 
Treaty." 

"  Poor    little    beggar."     Tempest    regarded    the    pl.icid 


"ON    THE    LONG    TRAIL"  327 

baby-face  with  pity.  "  Can't  you  waive  the  law  for  once, 
Gillington?  " 

"  Guess  not.  It  wouldn't  do  to  create  a  precedent.  I'm 
sorry,  too.  I  reckon  those  five  dollars  mean  as  much  to  her 
as  two  or  three  hundred  to  you  or  me." 

Leaf-of-the-woods  raised  her  eyes  to  Tempest.  She  did 
not  understand  what  these  big-voiced  men  were  saying; 
but  she  read  that  heart-note  in  Tempest's  tone  which 
is  common  to  all  languages.  Dick  saw  Tempest's  grave 
face  flush  and  soften. 

"  Can't  you  manage  it  some  way,  Gillington?  "  he  asked. 

"  As  an  officer  of  the  law,  I  can't.  But  there's  nothing 
to  prevent  your  giving  her  the  five  dollars  if  you  feel  like 
it." 

Gillington  laughed  at  his  own  joke.  But  Tempest's  eyes 
lighted  to  a  gleam  of  the  mischievous  laughter  of  earlier 
days. 

"  Nothing  to  prevent  my  adopting  that  kid  and  insuring 
his  yearly  payment  out  of  my  own  pocket,  I  suppose  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Nothing  but  the  state  of  your  own  pocket,"  agreed  Gil- 
lington. 

"  I  fancy  I  can  stand  that.  Will  you  explain  to  Fran- 
cois that  I  want  the  girl  to  know  that  I'm  going  to  be  re- 
sponsible for  those  five  dollars  in  future,  and  that  I'm 
going  to  give  the  child  my  name  so  that  I  can  keep  track 
of  him." 

"  You  always  were  quixotic,"  remarked  Sherwood,  look- 
ing at  him  curiously. 

"  Likely  enough,"  cried  Tempest  dryly,  and  raised  his 
voice,  calling  to  a  little  burly  priest  who  was  passing  from 
the  Roman  Catholic  Mission. 

The  priest  halted,  and  Tempest  went  to  him,  and  then 
the  two  came  back  together.  A  gaping  young  breed  was 
sent  to  the  lake  for  a  dipper  of  water,  and  before  the  rough 
box  with  its  thumbed  account-books  Dick  saw  enacted  a 
queer  little  ceremony  which  left  him  undecided  to  the  end 
of  his  life  concerning  its  comedy  or  tragedy. 

Gillington's  jolly  face  was  composed  into  an  unusual 
solemnity,  and  Otway  leaned  against  the  tent-opening  with 
his  brows  knit  and  in  his  eyes  a  haunting  look  of  memory. 


328  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Among  the  crowding  Indians  stood  the  fat  priest  with 
rusty  cassock  and  kindly,  flabby  face.  Tempest  took  the 
baby  from  the  girl's  arms,  starting  with  all  a  man's  alarm 
as  it  began  to  cry.  Hastily  he  thrust  it  into  the  priest's 
hands,  giving  his  own  name  with  it,  and  the  child  screamed 
strongly  as  the  water  sprayed  over  it  from  the  priest's  hot 
fingers. 

Then  the  mother  took  it  again;  Gillington,  relaxing  the 
corners  of  his  mouth  with  evident  relief,  made  a  careless 
joke,  and  insisted  on  Tempest  himself  placing  the  five  dol- 
lars in  the  soft  dark  fingers  of  Neil  Fraser  Tempest  the 
younger. 

Dick  got  up  and  walked  hurriedly  down  to  the  canoes  on 
the  Lake  shore.  Was  this  brown,  greasy  baby  the  only 
one  who  was  to  carry  on  Tempest's  name  when  the  man's 
work  was  done  and  that  alert,  breezy  step  stilled  for  ever? 
Dick  guessed  that  it  almost  surely  would  be  so.  There 
was  a  lonely  life  before  Tempest  now:  a  lonely  life  and 
his  work,  supposing  that  this  crust  of  quiet  dignity  behind 
which  he  had  withdrawn  himself  hid  living  fires  and  not 
burnt-out  ash.  Dick  would  have  given  all  he  had,  except 
a  certain  little  oil-painting,  to  know  what  lay  beneath  that 
crust.  He  could  have  borne  with  Tempest  for  an  out- 
spoken enemy,  or  he  could  have  abased  himself  and  asked 
forgiveness  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  But  this  rigid, 
outward  calm  maddened  him;  and  yet,  here  again  because 
Tempest  was  the  stronger,  he  could  not  break  through 
it. 

He  went  down  to  the  Lake  where  the  canoes  lay ;  loaded 
and  ready  for  their  long  unknown  journey  to  the  East. 
The  other  two  policemen  of  the  Patrol  were  there,  packing 
in  their  own  dunnage,  and  joking  with  the  few  white  men 
who  stood  round.  The  mosquitoes  hummed  in  swarms 
across  the  low  swamp-land,  and  Myers,  the  stocky  little 
Corporal  detailed  from  work  on  the  Yukon,  was  swearing 
in  Cockney  English  as  he  puffed  his  briar  pipe  and  beat 
the  air  right  and  left.  The  bowman  of  Dick's  canoe  was 
a  tall,  melancholy  French-Canadian,  with  drooping  mous- 
tache and  drooping  shoulders  and  muscles  of  springy  steel. 
He  looked  at  Myers  with  his  dark,  sad  eyes. 

"  Parblieu!     You  are  too  fat,"  he  said.     "  They  will  eat 


"ON    THE    LONG    TRAIL"  329 

you  always.    And  it  is  to  be  worse  where  we  go  in  the  next 
days." 

"  Ain't  'e  a  nice  feller  ter  have  along  on  a  picnic?  "  ap- 
pealed Myers  to  the  lookers-on.  "  A  reel  merry  company, 
that's  what  'e  is.  '  Wot's  the  good  o'  livin'  terday  ?  '  'e  says. 
'  We  gotter  die  termorrocr.'  Yesser.  Why — yesser. 
We  ain't  got  nothin'  more  ter  wait  for — 'cept  them 
breeds." 

Tempest  had  hired  two  breeds  and  a  canoe  to  help 
lighten  the  loads  across  the  dangerous  Long  Traverse  of 
rapids  on  the  Lake.  He  looked  right  and  left  for  them 
now,  drawn  to  his  full  height,  with  his  bright  eyes  keen  as 
Dick's  own.  Outwardly  he  seemed  all  that  a  workman 
should  be.  But  the  test  that  would  try  him  in  so  many 
ways  was  not  yet. 

Up  the  sweep  of  the  shore  came  a  canoe,  shot  forward 
by  the  quick,  long  strokes  of  the  breeds.  They  paddled 
Indian-fashion,  changing  the  hands  every  few  minutes,  and 
the  flash  of  the  dripping  paddles  overhead  dazzled  in  the 
sunlight.  Dick  looked  down  at  the  canoes  which  were  to 
carry  the  little  patrol  so  far.  Long  and  snaky-brown  they 
lay;  of  varnished  strip  cedar;  a  good  eighteen  feet  in 
length,  with  a  forty-four  inch  beam  and  a  draught  of  eight- 
een inches.  Tempest  had  chosen  them  from  the  design- 
book,  and  he  knew  every  stroke  of  them;  for  he  and  Dick 
had  tried  them  on  the  rapids  of  the  Athabaska  and  he  had 
gone  over  them,  foot  by  foot,  as  they  lay  covered  on  the 
deck  of  the  steamer  which  brought  them  up  to  Smith's 
Landing.  They  were  fitted  with  oars,  and  big  rolled  lateen 
sails,  and  with  many  paddles.  Aft  and  amidships  were 
stowed  part  of  the  freight  which  was  to  feed  and  clothe 
the  men  until  they  touched  to  white-man  life  again,  and  at 
the  shore-lip  the  two  breeds  were  stowing  the  remainder 
into  their  own  light  birch  canoe. 

A  man  beside  Dick  stooped  to  lift  the  prow  of  a  canoe. 

"What's  her  portaging  weight?"  he  asked;  and  Dick, 
blowing  the  tobacco-smoke  round  him  in  a  cloud,  said: 

"  About   one-twenty   pounds.      The   very   lightest   make 
I've  come  across  for  the  strength." 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  man,  and  wagged  his  head.     "  But  you 
don't  know  where  you're  going.    Where  a  feller  has  to  cut 


330  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

portages  and  portage  his  canoe  afterwards  I  guess  it  gets 
heavy  enough." 

Dick  turned  away  with  a  grunt.  He  did  not  like  men 
who  looked  out  for  trouble.  Besides,  it  was  so  very  true 
that  he  did  not  know  where  he  was  going.  Neither  in 
spirit  nor  in  body  did  he  know.  But  he  was  very  sure  of 
one  thing.  Before  the  trail  was  ended  he  would  burst 
through  that  crust  which  sheltered  Tempest,  even  if  Tem- 
pest killed  him  for  it. 

The  sun  was  yet  high,  though  Tempest's  watch  said 
half-past  six,  when  the  three  canoes  dropped  away  from 
Fort  Resolution,  threading  through  the  big  and  little  chan- 
nels that  harry  the  many  island  shores.  The  sun  laid  its 
broad  gold  on  their  faces  or  on  their  neck-napes  as  they 
wound  right  and  left,  with  the  birds  calling  past  them  from 
island  to  island  and  all  the  warm  wet  scents  of  trees  and 
earth  blowing  fresh  in  their  ncstrils;  there  was  enough 
wind  to  keep  the  mosquitoes  off,  and  the  canoes  cut  their 
way  strongly  with  the  dipping  paddles  sending  light-flashes 
far  over  the  streaming  water. 

Leaf-of-the-woods,  crouched  with  her  children  in  a  little 
crazy  dug-out,  and  paddling  heavily  back  to  her  home  on 
a  distant  island,  looked  up  as  the  canoes  swept  by,  with  the 
sun  glinting  on  tunic-buttons  and  badges,  and  making  ruddy 
the  firm-lipped,  keen-eyed  faces.  Exactly  what  Tempest 
had  done  for  her  she  could  not  comprehend;  but  she  un- 
derstood that  in  some  mysterious  way  he  had  assured  those 
coveted  five  dollars  to  the  sleeping  child  at  her  feet.  She 
halted  the  paddle  in  her  dusky,  dirty  little  hands ;  staring, 
round-eyed  and  unemotional.  Tempest  smiled  as  he  went 
by.  He  was  kneeling  bare-headed,  with  the  wind  in  his 
thick  chestnut  hair  and  his  strong  neck  stiffened  for  the 
thrust  and  swing  of  the  paddle.  Leaf-of-the-woods  gave 
no  response.  She  did  not  think  about  it.  Tempest  was 
something  so  utterly  alien  to  her ;  so  completely  outside  her 
life  and  her  comprehension.  He  scarcely  seemed  a  man 
among  men  to  Leaf-of-the-woods.  He  was  more  like  some 
undefined  force,  as  all  the  white  men  who  trod  and  looked 
as  he  did  were.  She  watched  him  pass  with  a  kind  of  in- 
difference, and  when  the  islands  hid  him. she  took  up  her 
paddle  again  and  worked  her  stolid  way  home. 


"ON    THE    LONG    TRAIL"  331 

Tempest  forgot  her  in  a  struggle  to  clear  a  snag  round 
the  next  corner.  But  the  thing  which  he  had  done  before 
the  Treaty  tent  at  Fort  Resolution  meant  more  than  either 
the  white  man  or  the  brown  girl  knew.  For  it  was  earnest 
of  that  deeper,  more  impersonal  fathering  which  Tempest 
was  later  to  give  to  the  land  he  loved. 

Through  the  evening  haze  a  tall  York  boat  grew  out  of 
the  blue  distance  with  its  patched  sail  drawing  feebly  in 
the  fitful  wind.  It  was  crowded  with  the  Yellow  Knives 
and  Dog  Rib  Indians,  going  in  to  Fort  Resolution  for 
Treaty  Payment.  Idly  they  sat  or  lay  about  the  decking; 
long-haired,  loose-limbed,  indifferent,  except  where  one 
boy  sprang  up  on  a  thwart,  holding  a  little  girl  on  his  broad 
shoulder.  A  red  handkerchief  was  bound  about  the  boy's 
head;  and  his  shrill  hail,  broken  across  by  the  drop  of  his 
voice  to  a  man's  depth,  came  curiously  over  the  empty  wa- 
ters. Then  they  too  fell  away  into  the  past,  and  Dick 
turned  his  eyes  to  the  man  ahead  of  him  again. 

He  had  watched  each  one  of  those  swarthy,  dark-eyed 
faces  with  the  lightningly-keen  glance  which  was  his  by 
nature.  He  knew  that  he  would  look  so  at  every  man  he 
passed — until  he  found  Ducane.  The  order  to  go  and  look 
for  Ducane  until  he  found  him  would  have  been  very  nearly 
the  greatest  joy  earth  could  have  given  him  now.  But,  be- 
cause it  was  denied,  he  knew  the  matter  only  lengthened 
by  a  little.  If  Ducane  lived  he  would  find  him.  If  Du- 
cane died  he  would  know  it.  Concerning  this  matter  he 
had  the  strange  intuition  which  occasionally  comes  to  men 
who  have  relied  all  their  lives  on  chance. 

The  Lake,  wide  and  moaning  as  the  sea,  was  dark  with 
the  wrath  of  an  eastern  wind  that  night.  But  it  was  no 
darker  than  Tempest's  spirit  as  he  walked  the  stony  ridge 
behind  their  island  camp,  forgetful  of  the  mosquito- 
smudges,  and  remembering  only  that  he  had  at  last  taken 
the  decisive  step  away  from  civilisation  and  from  all  knowl- 
edge of  Andree. 

He  knew  Andree  now  very  much  for  what  she  was.  But 
that  only  changed  his  love.  He  no  longer  thought  of  her 
a  wife.  To  him  she  was,  and  always  would  be,  just 
Grange's  Andree;  a  thing  half-human  and  wholly  dear — 
a  thing  which  the  very  soul  of  him  longed  to  protect  and1 


THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

.which  he  could  not  touch,  could  not  help,  could  not  shield. 
He  looked  down  the  slope  to  the  sleeping  bodies  round 
the  mosquito-smudge,  and  knew  instantly  which  of  them 
was  Dick.  He  had  lain  round  camp-fires  with  him  too 
often  not  to  know  how  Dick  always  slept  on  his  side,  with 
one  knee  bent  and  fingers  curving  for  the  revolver-butt; 
quick  to  spring  up  on  the  instant  at  any  unusual  sound. 
He  was  so  quick  always,  this  man  whom  Tempest  had 
loved  and  trusted.  So  quick  with  his  laugh  and  his  love 
and  his  generous  impulses.  Tempest  had  loved  Dick  be- 
cause he  was  Dick,  never  halting  to  consider  that  Dick 
might  treat  him  as  he  had  treated  other  men.  And  now 
Dick  had  done  it;  done  it  with  the  usual  callous  indiffer- 
ence which  he  showed  at  most  crises  of  his  life ;  done  it  with 
mocking  eyes  and  a  lie  on  his  mouth. 

In  Tempest  there  was  no  such  mad  mixture  of  rogue  and 
martyr  and  devil,  of  sin  and  renunciation  and  selfishness 
and  reverence  as  tormented  Dick.  There  was  no  little 
cynical  imp  of  humour  in  his  blood  to  teach  him  how  to 
jest  at  his  soul  and  at  all  other  things  which  hurt  him. 
Dick  possessed  that  imp.  Without  it  he  could  not  have 
served  the  Law  which  he  derided,  or  found  such  good  joy 
in  life  still.  Tempest  had  none  of  that  spark  to  keep  the 
fire  of  his  days  burning.  He  knew,  as  all  the  world's 
chosen  men  know  (and  there  are  many  more  of  them  than 
the  world  ever  finds  out)  that,  having  endured  the  suffer- 
ing, it  was  his  plain  duty  as  immortal  man  to  find  the  rem- 
edy and  to  apply  it  until  he  could  stand  upon  his  feet  again, 
sane  and  cured,  and  fit  for  the  work  which  was  to  fit  him 
for  the  future. 

But  he  knew  to-night,  as  he  had  known  so  many  times 
through  the  last  months,  that  as  yet  he  could  not  do  it.  He 
had  first  to  stamp  out  his  hate  of  Dick,  and  all  the  out- 
raged, betrayed  friendship  in  him  fought  instinctively 
against  that. 

He  went  down  to  the  fire  again;  took  his  blanket,  and 
wrapped  it  round  him.  A  breed  was  raised  on  his  elbow, 
throwing  more  wood  on  the  fire.  The  flickering  light  went 
playing  hide-and-seek  across  the  faces  of  the  sleeping  men, 
bringing  the  semblance  of  laughter  to  Dick's  mouth.  Tem- 
pest turned  his  back  on  him  and  lay  down.  But  that  mock- 


"ON    THE    LONG    TRAIL"  333 

ing  laughter  chased  him  through  his  dreams  and  spoiled  his 
rest. 

The  morning  broke,  wet  and  squally,  with  a  following 
wind  that  ran  them  with  taut  sails  down  to  the  grey  angry 
line  of  rough  water  that  began  the  Traverse.  Far  off  the 
small,  bare  islands  that  flanked  the  shore  were  lost  in  haze, 
and  the  naked  width  of  the  Great  Slave  Lake  was  like  a 
rimless  sea  about  them.  The  canoes  seemed  absurdly  in- 
adequate and  frail  to  take  that  passage ;  but  the  breeds  slid 
into  it,  indifferently,  with  the  assured  skill  of  their  kind, 
and  the  white  men's  canoes  followed,  as  snaky  and  alert  as 
they.  The  rising  wind  blew  up  a  sea  that  threatened  dan- 
ger, and  the  next  two  hours  were  full  of  it.  With  tunics 
flung  aside,  and  sleeves  rolled,  and  hats  off  every  man  la- 
boured for  his  life;  and  the  crested  waves  about  them  al- 
lowed no  rest,  any  more  than  the  stalking  Indian  of  an 
earlier  day  had  allowed  rest  to  those  free-traders  who  were 
marked  down  for  punishment  on  that  Long  Traverse  of 
an  earlier  day. 

They  were  dripping  with  rain  and  lake-water ;  exhausted, 
and  stiff  with  the  muscle-ache  when  they  hauled  to  shore 
again,  two  hours  later.  But  the  great  Traverse  was  passed, 
and  the  beginning  of  a  new  world  was  before  them.  Dick 
knew  something  of  that  world  already.  He  had  trodden 
part  of  it  himself,  and  from  the  tribes  gathered  in  Fort 
Resolution  he  had  learnt  much  more.  For  Fort  Resolution 
is  the  book  which  holds  the  largest  and  the  biggest  chapter 
of  the  story  of  Fur.  From  there  men  go  north  to  the  Bar- 
ren Lands  to  hunt  the  musk  ox ;  from  there  fur  of  marten, 
of  wolverine,  of  brown  bear  and  ermine,  and  many  more 
go  south  in  the  close-pressed  bales,  by  steamer  and  by  port- 
age and  by  the  tracker's  pull.  And  from  there,  all  round 
about  it,  the  trails  of  the  sturdy  hunters  drive  out  into  the 
silences  over  the  chartless  hundreds  of  miles. 

At  Fond  du  Lac  was  a  deserted  post  of  the  Hudson  Bay 
Company.  They  left  it  to  rot  its  way  back  to  the  earth 
again,  and  followed  up  the  narrowing  lake  until  Charlton 
Harbour  marked  the  end  of  it  and  the  beginning  of  that 
which  all  men  knew  to  be  the  real  test  of  flesh  and 
spirit. 

That  night's  camp  was  among  a  cluster  of  empty  tepees 


334  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

on  the  lonely  shore  whence  white-man  tread  and  white-man 
voices  had  departed  long  ago.  The  tepees  were  used  as  a 
half-way  camp  by  the  Dog  Ribs  and  Yellow  Knives  going 
into  Fort  Resolution  for  the  yearly  Treaty  Payments,  and 
the  signs  of  recent  occupation  were  plain  on  them.  Dick 
prowled  through  their  dirty  silences  that  night;  but  he 
found  nothing  of  moment  except  a  puppy  with  a  broken 
leg.  He  put  the  leg  into  adequate  splints  and  fed  to  it  the 
raw  moosemeat  brought  from  the  Fort;  and  Tempest,  see- 
ing, marvelled  as  he  had  so  often  marvelled  before,  at  the 
strong  line  of  distinction  which  this  man  drew  between  hu- 
man nature  and  the  animal. 

The  black  flies  and  the  mosquitoes  hailed  them  before 
the  sun  shot  up  to  presage  a  hot,  airless  day.  And  then, 
under  the  blaze  of  it  and  attended  by  a  mighty  murmur- 
ing, stabbing  army,  they  began  that  portaging  which  was 
to  stay  with  them  in  larger  or  lesser  degree  throughout  the 
rest  of  the  journey. 

The  three-mile  portage  over  the  divide  that  parted  the 
two  lakes  had  been  beaten  hard  by  the  passing  of  the  fur 
hunters  through  uncounted  years  on  their  way  to  Fort 
Resolution.  It  lay  between  low  close  forest  where  the  mos- 
quitoes hung  like  an  awning,  and  it  climbed  a  six-hundred 
feet  slope  in  the  sun  where  the  blackflies  made  patterns  on 
the  white  stony  earth.  In  four  days  they  had  travelled  a 
distance  of  over  sixty  miles  across  that  three-mile  portage; 
and  Myers  vented  some  opinions  as  he  flung  the  list  tightly- 
rolled  pack  on  the  crest  of  the  divide  where  the  little  lake 
lay,  and  rubbed  the  aching  muscles  of  his  neck. 

"  I'm  thinkin'  as  it  were  some  joker  called  us  the 
Mounted  Police,"  he  said.  "  We're  'orses,  bloomin'  'orses, 
that's  what  we  are.  An'  this  darned  strap  " — he  pulled 
viciously  at  the  leather  loop  which  hung  from  his  Stetson 
hat  to  the  curve  of  the  skull — "  this  are  our  bridle,  on'y  we 
hadn't  oughter  be  wearin*  it  behind." 

Depache,  the  tall  French-Canadian,  eased  his  shoulders 
from  the  pressure  of  the  canoe-paddles  which  had  been 
strapped  across  the  canoe-thwarts  so  as  to  enable  him  to 
carry  the  whole  thing  on  his  head. 

"  Bien,"  he  said.  "  You  will  soon  not  be  so  fat.  I  did 
never  see  a  man  sweat  as  you  do  sweat.  It  is  wonderful." 


"ON    THE    LONG    TRAIL"  335 

Myers  grunted,  beating  the  swarming  flies  from  hands 
and  face. 

"  Guess  me  an'  Heriot  is  a-goin'  ter  hev  good  strong 
beards  ter  shelter  us  in  a  while/'  he  remarked.  "  Wot  you 
an'  th'  Inspector  want  wi'  keepin*  yer  faces  bare  ter  be  bit 
I  can't  see.  Tommy-rot,  I  calls  it." 

"  C'est  en  regie,"  said  Depache,  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

He  could  not  have  explained  why  he  and  Tempest  found 
no  day  too  hard  nor  too  long  but  that  they  could  take  from 
it  five  minutes  for  a  cold-water  shave  and  three  more  to 
brush  their  hair.  But  Tempest  knew.  There  is  something 
in  man  which  makes  it  unwise  for  him  to  let  go  of  the  outer 
usages  of  refinement  to  which  he  has  been  accustomed.  In- 
sensibly those  refinements  keep  awake  the  like  in  the  heart, 
though  outward  conditions  may  batter  on  both.  At  no 
time  is  it  more  necessary  for  some  men  to  hold  on  to  their 
inner  self-respect  by  according  outward  respect  to  their 
body  than  in  the  desolate  places  where  there  is  none  to 
shame  them  if  they  fall.  Tempest  brushed  his  clothes 
daily.  He  washed  out  the  coarse  flannel  shirt  of  the  day's 
wear  each  night ;  and  through  all  the  dust  and  the  sweating 
heat  and  the  loathsome  crawling  flies  he  walked  with  the 
cleanly-groomed  alertness  which  he  carried  in  the  barrack- 
yard.  He  dared  not  let  go  of  that,  for  he  had  lost  loo 
much  else;  and  Depache,  blindly  copying  the  man  to  whom 
he  gave  a  silent,  unobtrusive  worship,  bore  his  head  the 
higher  for  it  also. 

Dick  and  Myers  frankly  sloughed  conventionalities  on 
every  possible  point.  They  were  strong  as  brown  bears 
and  restless  as  foxes.  While  Tempest  wrote  up  his  diary 
or  did  his  washing,  and  Depache,  roaming  the  wind-swept 
shore,  sang  his  pathetic  lumber-camp  songs  in  clipped 
French,  Dick  and  Myers  caught  the  long,  coarse  trout  of 
the  Great  Slave,  or  the  abundant  whitefish,  or  hunted  game 
along  the  shores,  and  found  none.  Dick  had  his  own  phys- 
ical pain  on  those  burning  days  of  the  portage-trail.  His 
walk  had  not  the  spring  of  Tempest's,  and  the  sand  and 
the  stone  of  the  way  seared  his  feet  through  the  moccasin- 
soles  until  every  step  meant  the  negotiation  of  a  separate 
hill  of  torment. 


336  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Tempest  did  not  know  of  this  until  the  last  of  those  four 
days,  when  Depache  and  Myers  were  swimming  in  the  lit- 
the  lake  that  lipped  the  knees  of  the  sparse  trees  with  so 
different  a  sound  from  the  thunder  of  the  Slave,  and  Dick, 
in  the  smoke  of  the  mosquito-smudge,  was  mending  a  tear 
in  his  tunic  by  button-clips  and  talking  idle  animal-talk  to 
the  splint-legged  dog  at  his  elbow.  Tempest  came  out  of 
his  tent,  and  looked  round. 

"  Where  are  the  men  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Swimming,"  said  Dick,  and  did  not  look  up. 

"  Was  that  little  black  leather  case  of  mine  put  into  your 
tent?  It  came  up  in  the  last  packs  to-day." 

"  Yes.  I  chucked  it  down  with  the  dunnage  some- 
where." 

Dick  stood  up  to  go  to  his  tent,  and  Tempest  stopped 
him. 

"  I  can  get  it,"  he  said.    "  Tell  me  where  it  is." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Dick  dryly.  "  I  prefer  to  overhaul 
my  personal  belongings  myself." 

Tempest  flushed,  biting  his  lips.  But  his  eyes  followed 
the  man  into  the  second  tent,  and  when  Dick  brought  the 
case  it  was  not  of  it  that  Tempest  spoke. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  to  your  feet  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing."     Dick  took  up  his  work  and  sat  down  again. 

"  You'll  be  good  enough  to  answer  me  more  civilly,"  said 
Tempest,  and  for  a  moment  his  voice  shook.  "  What  is 
wrong  with  your  feet?  " 

"  I  burnt  them  portaging."  Dick  looked  up.  "  When  I 
cry  out  it  will  be  time  enough  for  you  to  fuss  over  me." 

Tempest  understood  all  that  look  and  words  meant. 
They  angered  him. 

"  I  should  have  imagined  you  knew  enough  by  now  to 
take  care  of  your  feet,"  he  said  sharply. 

Dick  sought  among  the  odds  and  ends  of  the  fishing  line, 
buttons,  floats,  oiled  rags  and  other  things  that  were  stuffed 
into  a  battered  little  embroidered  silk  bag  made  for  him 
years  since  by  some  girl  whose  name  he  had  forgotten.  He 
had  carried  that  bag  for  sentimental  reason  at  first.  Later 
on  it  had  become  a  familiar.  Now  it  was  about  the  one 
thing  which  might  be  said  to  represent  home  to  him.  Other 
things  passed  and  were  replaced;  but  the  little  faded  bag 


«ON    THE    LONG   TRAIL"  337 

survived  in  some  way  which  he  never  took  the  trouble  to  ac- 
count for. 

"  Be  easy,"  he  said,  and  detached  another  clip  from  a 
melting  lump  of  cobbler's  wax.  "  I  will  get  through  my 
work  as  well  as  the  next  man." 

He  kept  his  word  unconcernedly  and  to  the  letter.  But 
it  hurt  Tempest  more  than  he  had  believed  he  could  be 
hurt  now  to  watch  those  limping  feet  on  the  many  port- 
ages that  linked  up  lake  after  lake  until  the  long  waters 
of  Artillery  Lake  stretched  before  them,  gleaming  delicate 
mauve  and  silver  under  the  dying  day.  Dick  had  been  this 
way  before  on  a  lone  patrol,  filled  only  with  the  cheerful 
exultance  of  a  hunter  who  keeps  a  difficult  trail.  Now  he 
dropped  his  pack  on  the  camping-ground;  straightened  with 
an  effort;  rubbed  his  hot  hands  over  his  hotter  face,  and 
looked  out  across  the  peaceful  water.  At  his  side  De- 
pache  said  gently: 

"  Mary  Mother !  But  it  is  like  w'en  de  bells  of  San 
Michel  do  call  us  to  pray  at  home." 

Dick  heard,  but  he  did  not  speak.  The  great  spreading 
calm  of  the  water;  the  pure  air,  warm  and  soothing  where 
it  blew  in  his  face;  the  quiet,  bare  hill-spaces  dimming 
to  dusk,  and  the  one  grove  of  trees  about  him  where  the 
dark  thickened,  brought  more  rest  into  his  fretted  weary 
mind  than  he  had  known  for  long.  Unmoving  he  stood, 
with  his  face  changing  and  softening.  Then  he  turned, 
loosed  the  straps  round  his  pack,  and  went  back  over  the 
hundred-yard  portage  for  a  second  load. 

That  night  the  real  keepers  of  the  Silences  waked  and 
walked  about  the  two  little  tents  along  the  lake-shore. 
Dick,  hearing  the  faint  familiar  call  and  the  soft  clicking 
of  hoofed  feet  saw  them  first.  Then  he  crawled  to  the 
tent-opening  and  lay  there,  watching.  In  twos  and  threes 
and  in  dozens  they  passed  and  repassed  him ;  the  full- 
grown  caribou  bull  standing  mightily  with  his  antlers  clear- 
cut  on  the  pallor  of  the  lake;  the  slender  does,  stepping 
lightly  and  turning  their  dappled  necks  to  left  and  right, 
and  the  young  bulls  halting  now  and  again  to  butt  each 
other  with  their  sprouting  horns  and  then  rushing  off  with 
exaggerated  snorts  of  fear.  All  along  the  lake-lip  they 
drank  and  clustered ;  parted  and  came  again.  The  smell  of 


388  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

their  warm,  furry  bodies  and  of  the  mud  they  churned  up 
in  the  swampy  places  came  strongly  to  Dick;  and  the  mur- 
muring, whimpering  sounds  of  them;  the  sharp  scuffles  and 
the  occasional  deep  note  of  warning  struck  home  to  the  very 
core  of  the  man's  heart. 

It  was  only  among  the  creatures  of  the  wild  that  the 
savage  was  wiped  out  of  him  and  the  unquestioning  sim- 
plicity of  their  lives  filled  his  own.  He  stood  up  present^, 
and  went  to  them;  walking  softly,  and  keeping  in  the 
shadow.  And  then,  ahead,  where  the  naked  sides  of  the 
lake  slid  to  the  water,  he  saw  a  thing  which  he  once  had 
seen  before,  and  for  a  moment  he  wondered  if  the  turbulent 
years  between  were  nightmare  only,  and  if  this  endless  army 
of  stately-treading  bulls  who  crossed  the  ridge  against  the 
sky,  descended,  and  breasted  the  lake  one  after  one,  was 
not  the  same  army,  even  as  this  was  the  same  night  which 
he  had  passed  here  five  full  years  ago. 

Depache's  soft,  melancholy  tones  spoke  below  him  as 
they  lay  in  the  grass. 

"  Dieu !  They  are  like  the  angels  of  Heaven  for  mul- 
titude." 

And  then  Dick  laughed:  a  smothered,  heart-whole  laugh 
such  as  he  had  not  known  these  many  days.  For  the  surg- 
ing, crested  horns  that  split  the  water  above  the  dark 
swimming  bodies  looked  devilish  entirely  among  the  naked 
hills  and  the  barren  waters.  Both  men  lay  still  until  De- 
pache's long  body  grew  chilled,  and  he  crept  back  through 
the  grass  to  the  tent.  But  Dick  clung  to  his  spur-top  yet, 
keen-eared  for  the  distant  splash  where  a  great  bull  took 
the  water;  for  the  soft  rushing  sound  as  he  swam  steadily; 
for  the  flapping  shake  of  his  great  body  as  he  landed.  In 
the  utter  stillness  sound  carried  far,  and  Dick's  ears  were 
quick  as  those  of  the  hunter  must  be.  And  his  eyes  were 
quick.  That  sweeping,  endless  river  of  the  life  which  be- 
longs to  the  solitudes  was  distinct  and  very  dear  to  him. 
Year  by  year  the  caribou  took  their  trails  and  came  again: 
stately,  unafraid,  unchanging;  seeking  the  reindeer-moss 
and  the  tree-branch  and  the  waters  of  some  unnamed  lake 
for  drink.  Homeless,  drifting  ever  from  North  to  South 
and  back,  they  were  yet  the  rightful  masters  of  this  land; 
the  sentry-go  of  the  Barren  Grounds;  the  guard  along  the 
frontier. 


"ON    THE    LONG   TRAIL"  339 

In  a  very  few  days  Dick  and  the  men  with  him  would  be 
across  that  frontier  where  once,  years  before,  he  and  Tem- 
pest had  trodden  together.  But  when  they  were  gone  and 
the  North  closed  up  into  its  long  sleep  the  caribou  would 
still  be  there,  moving  in  their  countless  ranks  over  the 
noiseless  whiteness. 

In  the  days  that  came  after,  the  northern  limit  of  trees 
was  passed  and  the  Barren  Grounds  only  lay  left  and  right 
and  north  to  the  Arctic  Seas.  Here  the  wind  dropped,  and 
the  sun  poured  heat  down  steadily,  until  the  mosquitoes 
and  flies  clung  about  them  in  thick,  stupid  swarms,  bring- 
ing blood  on  every  naked  part,  and  the  clayey  untrodden 
portages  slid  and  quaked  beneath  the  tread,  letting  the  feet 
through  to  clogging  mud  and  water  that  sometimes  caught 
the  ankles  and  flung  the  man  forward  violently.  Up  the 
Cusba  River  they  tracked  the  canoes  among  the  snarling 
rapids.  In  open  reaches  sudden,  stiff  winds  bore  them 
back  to  barren  shores  that  held  no  anchorage.  The  one 
lonely  little  Indian  camp  they  passed  was  far  behind,  and 
the  four  men  moved  alone  in  the  hand  of  the  elements 
and  of  the  God  who  made  them. 

But  the  fat  mosquito-bitten  Myers  had  unfailing  jokes 
for  every  good  or  evil;  Depache  sang  his  little  plaintive 
French-Canadian  songs,  untroubled  by  wind  or  rain,  and 
the  dangerous,  alert  look  softened  in  Dick's  eyes  before 
the  touch  of  the  outer  places  on  his  soul,  and  he  told  his 
casual  yarns  of  the  things  he  had  seen  and  had  done  as 
easily  in  the  cold,  wind-beaten  tent  as  round  the  jovial 
camp-fires  of  the  south.  Tempest's  men  had  been  picked 
with  skill,  and  he  had  reason  to  approve  the  judgment. 
They  were  men  right  through,  these  roughened,  sweating, 
blood-smudged  ruffians  who  took  the  tracking-line  of  the 
portage-pack,  the  paddle,  the  oar,  or  the  straining  stays 
of  the  sail,  cheerfully  and  without  comment,  at  his  word. 
And  he,  knowing  himself  for  the  king-bolt  of  the  company, 
laboured  with  all  the  inward  courage  left  him  to  take  his 
part  manfully  in  the  daily  trials  that  no  man  knows  until 
he  comes  to  face  them  for  himself. 

The  days  dropped  away,  remembered  only  by  "that 
noon  when  we  couldn't  make  a  landing,  and  had  no  din- 
ner " ;  or,  "  the  night  it  blew  too  hard  to  pitch  the  tents, 
and  we  slept  under  the  canoes  " ;  or,  "  that  bloomin*  day 


340  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

what  was  all  portages  an'  we  unloaded  an'  loaded  up  again 
fire  times."  And  then,  when  a  short  month  was  done,  they 
came  to  the  portage  on  the  Height  of  Land,  with  rivers 
and  ground  falling  eastward  into  Hudson  Bay. 

They  camped  on  Height  of  Land  portage  that  night; 
round  a  fire  made  of  driftwood  worn  and  light  from  long 
beating  on  these  barren  shores,  and  of  moss  which  Dick 
searched  for,  and,  knowing  well  the  use  of,  brought  back 
to  the  fire  in  great  cakes.  It  gave  out  a  musty  smell  to 
the  night,  and  Myers  declared  that  it  made  the  tea  taste. 
But  the  flavour  was  good  to  Dick,  and  the  wild  night  blow- 
ing up  dark  on  the  naked  wastes  about  him  was  good.  For 
the  belief  was  quickening  in  his  mind — day  by  day,  and 
hour  by  hour — that  when  he  touched  to  the  haunts  of  men 
again  he  would  find  Ducane, 

Through  all  those  miles  from  Fort  Resolution,  which 
were  only  about  three  hundred  and  seventy  on  the  survey 
map,  although  the  portages  had  piled  them  up  to  almost 
as  many  more,  Dick's  mind  held  sleeplessly  to  the  thought 
of  Ducane.  While  his  senses  exulted  in  the  smell  of  the 
rivers ;  in  the  deep-trod  spore  of  deer  on  the  shores ;  in  the 
high,  white  stars  that  strung  themselves  across  the  curve 
of  the  great  sky;  in  the  winds  that  blew  out  of  the  un- 
breathed  spaces  round  the  Pole,  his  brain  was  still  plan- 
ning the  capture  of  Ducane.  By  force  of  will  he  had  thrust 
Jennifer  into  the  background.  It  maddened  him  to  think 
of  her,  and  therefore  he  would  not  think  of  her. 

He  took  his  skill  in  his  work  for  his  fetish  again,  find- 
ing the  very  salt  of  life  in  it.  The  try-pit  wherein  he  had 
been  welded,  with  strong  blows  and  white-hot  searing  fire, 
had  not  left  him  with  much  mercy  towards  himself  or 
other  men.  Law,  duty,  discipline  had  meant  practically 
nothing  to  him  until  he  saw  the  beauty  of  them  in  Tem- 
pest's hands.  Now,  even  through  his  pain  in  connection 
with  this  man,  it  appealed  to  his  pride  and  his  humour  to 
know  that  he,  the  morally-derelict,  had  whipped  Tempest 
back  into  the  straight  path,  and  that  Tempest  was  tread- 
ing it,  faithfully,  if  not  with  the  glorying  delight  of 
old. 

In  some  way  which  he  did  not  try  to  fathom,  this  knowl- 
edge awakened  Dick's  understanding  of  what  he  owed  the 


"ON    THE    LONG    TRAIL"  341 

thing  to  which  he  had  given  his  oath.  It  began  to  lose  the 
vague  semblance  of  a  burden  to  be  slipped  when  possible; 
a  lesson  to  be  got  up  with  a  crib;  a  factor  which  had  no 
value,  no  interest  except  where  it  concerned  his  private  self. 
Step  by  step,  out  here  among  these  mighty  forces  which 
could  crush  him  so  lightly,  the  personal  sloughed  off  and 
the  impersonal  grew  more  reaL  What  he  was  doing;  what 
Tempest  was  doing;  what  every  map  and  woman  who  bent 
their  will  to  accept  law  and  restraint  and  discipline  through- 
out the  universe  was  doing,  could  not  be  a  little  thing.  In 
the  bulk  it  was  bigger  than  Destiny  itself,  because  it  was 
the  only  force  which  could  overcome  what  humanity  knows 
as  Destiny.  It  was  the  only  force  which  could  raise  the 
world  when  done  from  purified  motives. 

Dick  had  never  done  anything  from  a  purified  motive  in 
his  life,  although  the  deh'vering  of  Tempest  had  been  near 
it  in  the  beginning.  Now,  with  his  clear  inner  sight,  he 
knew  that  he  probably  never  would  do  anything  from  that 
motive.  He  knew  that  when  he  found  Ducane  he  would 
delight  to  see  the  man  cringe  and  whimper  to  him.  He 
would  delight  to  kick  Ducane  up  on  to  his  feet  and  keep 
him  there  by  the  goad.  He  had  suffered  too  much  through 
Jennifer's  husband  ever  to  forgive  him,  and  he  knew  well 
that  he  was  going  to  suffer,  so  long  as  he  or  Ducane  lived. 
And  then  suddenly,  Myers,  passing  him  on  the  portage, 
halted,  peering  into  his  face  with  little  twinkling,  blue  eyes. 

"Who  was  you  a-settin'  out  to  kill  jus*  now?"  he  de- 
manded. 

"  Black  flies,"  said  Dick,  and  scooped  his  hand  down  his 
stinging  neck.  "  Like  Joab  and  Joshua  and  the  rest,  I've 
been  slaying  my  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands." 

Myers  grunted. 

"  Looks  like  the  smell  o*  blood  don't  sicken  you  any," 
he  said,  and  went  on. 

There  was  a  curious  affinity  between  the  cheerful  little 
Cockney  and  Dick.  Myers  had  served  in  the  Yukon  Ter- 
ritory during  the  mining  rush,  and  there  were  several  pas- 
sages in  his  life  which  he  found  it  convenient  to  forget. 
But  he  had  learnt  there  how  to  seek  for  the  inner  values 
in  a  man,  knowing  them  to  be  different  utterly  from  the 
side  he  faces  the  world  with.  Like  Dick  there  were  times 


342  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

when  the  man  in  him  grew  tired  of  strife,  and  turned  boy- 
ishly to  the  boyish  equivalent  for  birds'-nesting  and  chas- 
ing cats;  and  together  they  sought  these  equivalents  now; 
trolling  for  the  great  red  trout  at  foot  of  the  rapids;  Avhip- 
ping  the  water  for  grayling;  hunting  caribou  when  fresh 
meat  was  needed;  and  chasing  the  cat  (which  was  De- 
pache)  when  opportunity  occurred. 

No  power  on  earth  could  ruffle  Depache's  gentle  melan- 
choly into  a  storm.  When  Dick  and  Myers  cursed  the 
flies  and  the  damp  heat  along  the  ragged  streams  and 
boulders  that  broke  the  portages,  and  yet  would  not  allow 
canoe- work;  when  they  swore  at  the  windy  nights;  at  the 
infinitely  desolate  hills  where  only  the  moss  and  a  few 
handfuls  of  grass  in  the  bottoms  offered  fuel ;  when,  rising 
to  giddy  peaks  of  profanity,  they  vowed  that  they  would 
feed  no  more  biscuit  to  the  stomachs  that  desired  bread — 
bread,  and  could  make  no  fire  wherewith  to  bake  it;  then 
Depache  would  look  at  them,  sad-eyed,  and  interested. 

"  But  I  could  never  think  of  all  those  words,  moi,"  he 
would  say,  and  drift  off  to  sing  his  little  songs  contentedly. 

By  the  nature  of  things  Tempest  stood  somewhat  alone 
throughout  his  patrol.  Birth  and  position  placed  him 
apart,  and  his  temper  just  now  kept  him  there.  He  did 
his  work  accurately,  both  in  the  physical  and  mental 
branches;  and  what  he  thought  about  he  kept  to  himself. 
Once  Dick  saw  him  handling  his  revolver  with  rather  un- 
necessary interest,  and  he  walked  past  noisily,  meaning  to 
make  Tempest  look  up.  Tempest  did  not  look  up.  He 
put  the  revolver  back  in  its  case  and  snapped  it  shut.  But 
Dick  carried  the  memory  of  that  little  scene  away  with  him, 
and  he  did  not  forget  it. 

In  Tempest's  place  he  would  have  used  the  revolver  on 
the  other  man.  He  knew  that  if  Tempest  used  it  he  would 
use  it  on  himself,  and  that  thought  kept  his  mind  busy, 
even  through  the  keen  disappointment  when  the  patch  of 
spruce  wood  promised  by  an  early  survey  map  as  growing 
on  the  shores  of  Si f ton  Lake  turned  out,  after  much  search- 
ing, to  be  soft  ground  spruce,  of  hardly  greater  value  thnn 
the  moss.  Over  that  spruce  Myers  lost  his  temper  fully 
for  the  first  time.  He  flung  himself  on  it,  tearing  it  up 
by  the  stringy  roots,  and  consigning  it  to  hotter  flames 


"ON    THE    LONG   TRAIL"  343 

than  that  by  which  he  had  hoped  to  bake  his  bread.  Then, 
exhausted,  he  went  down  the  hill,  climbed  into  his  canoe, 
and  took  up  the  paddle  again. 

"  Makes  a  man  wish  he  was  a  bloomin*  caribou,"  he  said. 
"They  can  get  their  fill  off  of  moss — moss,  an'  like  it." 

Once,  through  a  grey  evening  on  the  Thelon,  they  came 
on  a  musk-ox,  lying  like  a  great  earth-clod  on  the  flank  of 
a  naked  hill.  He  raced  across  it  when  their  shouts  woke 
him,  and  the  long  hair  that  swept  the  ground  waved  and 
fluttered  round  him  like  rags  shaken  in  the  wind.  He  was 
the  one  piece  of  life  they  had  seen  that  day,  and  the  barren 
stretches  seemed  more  desolate  without  him. 

And  then,  slow  and  slow,  came  promise  of  life  again. 
Grass  blowing  thick  along  the  foreshores;  heavy  timber 
skirting  the  banks;  sea-gulls  and  musk-ox;  brown  bears 
sauntering  under  the  sunset ;  wolverine  and  foxes  crying 
in  the  night.  On  a  portage  Dick  kicked  up  a  carved  bone 
of  Exquimaux  workmanship.  He  thrust  it  into  his  tunic 
and  trudged  on  with  a  new  light  shining  in  his  eyes.  Be- 
fore long,  before  very  long,  he  would  know  if  the  stamping- 
grounds  of  these  eastern  Esquimaux  sheltered  Ducane. 

It  was  a  year  and  two  months  since  Ducane  had  dis- 
appeared ;  and  as  he  had  not  been  found  among  the  peopled 
roadways  of  the  land,  it  followed  that  he  must  have  fled 
to  the  waste  places.  And  as  the  places  where  a  white  man 
can  find  means  of  existence  are  rather  clearly  defined  in 
Canada,  Dick  knew  that  he  must  be  along  the  river  trail 
if  he  had  gone  east.  He  could  not  leave  the  country 
undetected  by  any  of  the  northern  ways,  and  Dick  did  not 
believe  that  he  would  dare  to  face  the  congested  places  of 
the  south.  He  knew  too  many  men,  and  would  be  known 
by  too  many.  And  never  for  one  instant  did  Dick  think 
him  dead.  He  felt  instinctively  that  he  would  have  known 
if  it  had  been  so.  And  he  felt,  almost  .as  instinctively,  that 
it  would  be  for  him  to  find  Ducane  and  carry  him  back 
to  that  justice  which  he  had  baffled  so  long.  He  owed  it 
to  Jennifer;  he  owed  it  to  himself;  he  owed  it  to  the  work 
which  was  beginning  to  mean  more  to  him  than  ever  be- 
fore. 

Already  winter  was  chasing  them  with  sounding  feet; 
flinging  white  frost  to  greet  them  when  they  turned  out 


344  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

from  their  tents  each  morning,  and  spreading  soft  creaking 
ice-films  before  the  canoe-prows.  The  heat  of  midday 
swept  it  off;  but  each  morning  it  lasted  longer,  and  each 
evening  it  came  more  early.  The  tentacles  of  the  North 
were  pushing  down  to  annex  its  own  again.  Little  by  little 
the  land  was  closing  up  behind  them.  Already  the  Mac- 
kenzie River  would  have  shut  down,  and  Herschel  be  set- 
tling into  its  seven  months  of  rigidity.  The  keen,  glad 
breath  of  the  mornings  put  new  vigour  into  the  men;  the 
flies  were  dead,  and  the  long,  hard  miles  of  labour  had 
tightened  thew  and  muscle,  and  sweated  off  superfluous 
flesh  until  there  was  nothing  left  but  a  tense  springy 
strength  that  seemed  never  to  tire. 

And  then,  one  hot  midday  when  the  river  ran  fast  be- 
tween tall,  naked  cliffs,  the  canoes  swung  round  a  bluff 
and  found  an  anchorage  before  a  knot  of  deerskin  tepees 
where  Esquimaux  women  were  working.  Dick's  heart  was 
in  his  throat  as  he  went  with  Tempest  up  to  the  tepees. 
But  there  was  nothing  for  him  there.  All  the  men  were 
away  at  Fullerton,  trading  fur  and  carvings  with  the 
whalers,  and  the  little  information  which  the  laughing, 
fat-faced  women  could  give  in  their  broken  English  sug- 
gested no  knowledge  of  a  white  man  among  them. 

Tempest  stopped  to  admire  the  sleek,  alert,  dusky  dogs 
which  made  the  sledge-teams. 

"  About  as  different  from  an  Indian  dog  as  day  from 
night/'  he  said.  "  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  we  weren't  wish- 
ing we  had  'em  before  long." 

"  Why !  "  Dick  was  startled.  "  Don't  you  imagine  we 
will  catch  the  steamer  at  Chesterfield  or  Fullerton  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Can't  say."  Tempest  turned  on  his  heel.  "  Winter 
seems  likely  to  be  early,  and  I  am  afraid  its  going  to  take 
us  all  our  time " 

And  then  he  forgot  Dick  and  stood  watching  Depache 
down  on  his  long  knees  among  the  greasy,  chuckling  babies 
who  rolled  on  the  stamped  ground  without  the  tepees. 

Depache  was  cuddling  those  babies  and  kissing  them. 
He  made  bobbing  rabbits  for  them  out  of  his  ragged  hand- 
kerchief. He  tickled  them  and  laughed  as  the  fat,  good- 
natured  mothers  laughed,  and  Tempest  went  away  to  camp 
with  a  sudden,  surprised  understanding  in  him.  Shut  in 


"ON    THE    LONG    TRAIL"  345 

on  his  own  troubles,  it  had  never  struck  him  that  this 
gentle,  serenely  obedient  man  had  been  famishing  for  some- 
thing to  fondle;  something  to  take  care  of.  Tempest  re- 
membered now  how  Depache  had  begged  for  the  broken- 
legged  dog,  and  how  he  had  gone  away  by  himself  when 
Tempest  had  refused  him.  For  all  the  rigid  laws  and  the 
strenuous  man-life  to  which  they  had  submitted  themselves, 
there  was  yet  something  strangely  young  and  uneradicable 
in  these  lives  under  his  hand.  Dick  and  Myers  wanted 
their  boy-games,  though  their  eyes  and  the  lines  round 
their  mouths  could  tell  how  much  they  knew  of  men.  The 
soft,  melancholy  Depache,  who  was  stronger  than  Tempest 
himself,  wanted  some  little  helpless  thing  to  pet  and  kiss. 
Of  what  Tempest  himself  wanted  he  did  not  care  to  think. 
He  went  back  to  camp,  and  wrote  up  his  diary. 

Along  the  Thelon  River  old  cut  trees  told  where  Esqui- 
maux camps  had  been.  For  the  Indians  never  stray  so  far 
from  the  western  fur-trading  posts,  and  the  Esquimaux 
make  no  permanent  homes  in  the  woods.  The  open  coun- 
try where  the  snow  packs  hard  beneath  the  dog-trains 
and  the  caribou  run  in  their  endless  herds  are  dearer  to 
them  by  far. 

There  were  fish  and  deer  and  musk-ox  in  plenty  where 
the  following  winter  chased  the  little  patrol  east  and  ever 
east  into  Hudson  Bay.  Sweeps  of  utterly  barren  country 
were  interspersed  with  heavy  timber;  deserted  camps 
showed  nakedly  among  the  spruces ;  and  the  thickly-crossed 
spores  of  little  and  big  fur  animals  were  everywhere.  Un- 
der sail  they  crossed  Beverley  Lake  at  the  foot  of  the 
Thelon  River,  and  saw  that  the  far  end  of  it  a  large  Es- 
quimaux camp  where  men  came  down  to  greet  them  among 
the  barking  huskies  and  the  women  and  children. 

Dick  knelt  without  moving  in  the  stern  of  his  canoe  while 
Tempest  called  a  welcome,  and  the  answers  came  in  un- 
usually good  English.  He  was  wondering  why  that  husky 
man,  who  was  broader  and  taller  than  any  on  the  beach, 
had  gone  suddenly  into  a  half-hidden  tepee  and  dropped 
the  skin  flap  behind  him.  And  yet,  in  his  own  heart,  he  did 
not  really  wonder.  He  swung  his  canoe  alongside  Tem- 
pest's and  spoke  to  him,  very  low. 

"  Can't  we  make  camp  here?  "  he  said.  "  For  I  believe 
I  have  just  seen  Ducane." 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  BARREN   GROUNDS  " 

UP  the  stony  beach  and  among  the  sparse,  ragged  timber 
many  Esquimaux  women  were  working:  cutting  deer  flesh 
into  long  strips;  pounding  them  flat,  and  hanging  them 
over  the  poles  that  ran  between  forked  sticks  in  the  sun. 
Others  were  scraping  the  skins  and  stretching  them  on 
frames.  On  the  left  some  men  were  making  a  kyak;  sew- 
ing the  skin  across  the  ribs  of  the  boat  with  the  leg-tendons 
of  the  caribou.  There  were  many  dogs;  fat  and  healthy- 
looking;  and  the  brown  smoked  skin  tepees  seemed  whole 
and  prosperous.  Tempest  glanced  side-ways  at  Dick.  He 
knew  the  man's  powers  of  deduction  too  we'll  to  doubt  him. 

"Where?"  he  asked. 

"  Slinking  into  one  of  those  tepees.  Can  I  go  after 
him  ?  " 

There  was  an  eager,  almost  wolf-like  note  in  face  and 
voice.  Tempest  recoiled  from  it,  thinking  of  Ducane's 
wife.  He  looked  up  at  the  chief  of  the  camp  who  was 
talking  to  Myers  in  surprisingly  effective  English. 

"  You  have  a  white  man  here?  "  he  said. 

The  Esquimaux  nodded  and  smiled. 

"  Oh,  so.  Him  Sleepy-face.  Me  Good-night."  He 
patted  his  broad  breast.  "  Dat  my  wife  mak'  deer-meat 
'crost  dere.  She  Sunshine.  Dat  Sleepy-face  wife  too 
be'ind.  She  sweet  Muffin." 

Dick  turned  to  look  at  Sweet  Muffin.  She  sat  on  the 
ground  beside  a  great  hunch  of  the  deer-meat  with  her  fur- 
wrapped  legs  under  her  and  the  loose  fur  skirt  tucked  up 
round  her  fat,  swathed  body.  She  was  chewing  a  bit  of  the 
meat  as  she  worked,  and  her  bright  eyes  glanced  in  her  flat, 
greasy  face.  Swiftly  she  cut  off  slice  after  slice,  and  flung 
it  to  the  next  woman  who  pounded  it  out  on  a  stone.  Then 
they  laughed  together;  musically,  happily.  Dick  unfolded 
his  legs  and  stood  up  in  his  canoe. 

346 


"THE    BARREN    GROUNDS"  347 

"  May  I  go  after  Ducane?  "  he  asked,  and  his  voice  was 
dangerously  quiet. 

"  Why,  certainly/'  said  Tempest.  "  And  don't  waste 
time.  Every  hour  is  valuable  now.  Do  you  want  anv 
help?" 

11  No,  thanks,"  said  Dick.     "  I'd  rather  go  alone." 

He  walked  up  among  the  sniffing  dogs  and  the  roly- 
poly  children  with  long,  swift  steps.  He  had  no  weapon 
with  him,  and  he  knew  why  he  could  use  none  to  Jennifer's 
husband,  no  matter  what  the  provocation  might  be.  But 
he  did  not  expect  any  fight  from  Ducane.  He  would  have 
given  almost  anything  he  had  if  he  could  have  expected  it. 
But  he  knew  the  bed-rock  cowardice  of  the  man  too  well. 

Past  a  large,  well-shaped  tepee  with  its  chimney-fly 
smoked  deep  chocolate  he  reached  the  smaller,  half-hidden 
one  into  which  the  big  man  had  disappeared.  He  had  not 
taken  his  eyes  from  that  tepee  since  the  man  went  in,  and 
he  knew  that  his  chances  of  finding  Ducane  there  were 
considerable.  Ducane  would  not  have  expected  even  those 
hawk-eyes  to  search  him  out  in  that  one  instant  of  time. 

He  lifted  the  skin  flap  of  the  tepee;  stooped,  and  walked 
in.  It  was  dark  and  it  smelt  infinitely.  Dick  blew  his 
nostrils  out  in  disgust.  Ducane  had  never  been  a  dainty 
man ;  but  this  was  worse  than  was  necessary. 

"  Anyone  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

There  was  no  sound.  He  struck  a  match,  and  looked 
round.  Under  his  feet  lay  strips  of  wood,  caribou-bones, 
fishing-nets,  long  needles,  and  other  litter.  In  the  back 
of  the  tent  furs  were  piled  untidily.  It  might  have  been 
the  flicker  of  the  match,  but  Dick  fancied  that  the  skins 
moved — just  once. 

"  Gone  to  earth  on  the  chance,"  said  his  brain.  Then 
he  strode  over  and  took  up  two  great  handfuls  of  the  skins. 

"  You'd  best  come  out  of  that,  Ducane,"  he  said.  "  I'm 
here,  you  know." 

There  was  still  no  sound,  no  sight  of  life.  Dick  let  the 
match  drop;  reefed  up  another  armful  of  the  softly-cured, 
odorous  deer-skins,  kicking  at  the  same  time.  And  then 
something  rolled  out  on  the  earth  at  his  feet ;  cursing,  whim- 
mering,  clutching  at  him,  mixing  prayers  and  blasphemy 
like  a  man  demented.  Dick  jerked  himself  free  in  a  more 


348  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

virulent  rage  than  had  ever  possessed  him  in  his  life.  It 
was  this  thing— -this  thing  that  rolled  on  the  earth  and 
cried,  which  separated  him  from  Jennifer. 

"Get  up,"  he  said  between  his  teeth.  "Get  up,  you 
cur.  Get  up." 

tDick,  you're  malting  a  mistake/'  whimpered  Ducane. 
obison  was  deeper  dipped  than  me.     On  my  soul  he 
was.     And  he's  dead.     They  must  have  turned  him  off  long 

ago.     Why  can't  you " 

"in  the  devil's  name — get  up!"  said  Dick,  and  there 
was  something  in  his  voice  which  brought  Ducane  shaking 
and  murmuring  to  his  feet. 

"  You  can't  imprison  me,"  he  blustered.  "  I'll  turn 
King's  evidence.  I've  thought  the  whole  thing  out.  There 
are  others  in  it.  I'll  give  you  their  names.  But  I  won't 
go  to  prison.  I  won't  put  on  that  damned  prison  dress. 
It  would  kill  me.  Oh! — you!  What  did  you  come  here 
for,  you " 

"  That's  better."  Dick  was  taking  his  breath  in  long 
gulps.  "  Oh,  Lord;  if  you'd  only  hit  me !  "  he  said. 

"  How  did  you  know  I  was  here?  "  Even  in  the  close 
dark  Dick  knew  that  the  man  was  wringing  his  hands  and 
rocking  like  a  woman  in  despair.  "  Jenny  never  told  you. 
She  was  a  good  wife  to  me,  Jenny  was.  She  wouldn't  tell 
you.  Unless  you  made  her!  Did  you  make  her?  By 
Heaven,  if  you  bullied  Jenny " 

Dick  was  interested.  There  was  a  spark  of  manhood  in 
this  creature  yet,  then.  And  it  flamed  at  memory  of  the 
woman  whom  he  had  left  to  bear  the  weight  of  his  disgrace 
while  he  lived  in  a  skin  tepee  with  Sweet  Muffin. 

"  Suppose  I  did  ?  "  he  said,  and  every  muscle  was  twitch- 
ing with  longing  to  come  to  grips  with  this  man  who  was 
Jennifer's  husband. 

But  Ducane  had  slid  back  on  the  earth  again;  spurt- 
ing into  occasional  imprecations  and  falling  silent  again  in 
utter  fear.  He  was  like  a  damp  fuse,  and  Dick  had  no 
time  to  wait  for  him  to  light  up  again. 

"  That's  enough,"  he  said.  "  Come  on.  You're  camp- 
ing with  us  to-night,  Ducane,  and  the  canoes  are  waiting 
outside.  I  guess  you'll  help  carry  them  over  the  next  port- 
ages. We're  bound  for  Regina,  Ducane,  and  you'll  be  very 


"THE    BARREN    GROUNDS"  349 

•welcome  there,  I'm  sure.     Are  you  going  to  get  up?  " 

There  was  neither  bodily  nor  mental  muscle  left  in  the 
man.  lit:  had  become  obsessed  with  the  dread  of  prison, 
and  he  prayed  to  Dick  until  Dick's  very  ears  burnt  with 
shame. 

"Why  can't  you  leave  me  alone?  I'm  not  doing  any 
harm  up  here.  Robison's  dead.  He  must  be  dead.  And 
I'll  give  you  the  names  of  the  company.  There's  John 
W.  Harker,  of Dick !  Oh,  my  God !  Dick !  " 

In  lieu  of  a  handcuff  Dick  had  taken  a  piece  of  fishing- 
line  from  his  pocket,  whipped  it  round  Ducane's  wrist,  and 
twisted  it  there  with  the  strength  of  his  own  fingers.  It 
did  not  hurt  their  iron-hard  sinews;  but  it  sank  into  Du- 
cane's soft  flesh  like  a  string  into  cheese.  Ducane  sprang 
up  with  a  yell  and  incoherent  ravings.  Dick  laughed 
softly. 

"  Why/'  he  said,  "  I'm  not  beginning  to  hurt  yet.  But 
a  special  patrol  of  Canada  is  being  kept  waiting  for  you, 
Ducane,  and  I  don't  consider  it  polite  to  let  it  wait  any 
longer.  Do  you  prefer  to  be  led  out  like  a  puppy  on  a 
string?  " 

Ducane  took  a  step.  Then  he  halted.  Dread  of  the 
dock  with  that  mocking,  lazy  voice  swearing  away  his 
liberty  swept  over  him.  He  lurched  sideways,  smashing 
a  heavy  blow  right  into  Dick's  face.  Dick  carried  the 
mark  under  his  left  eye  for  months,  and  he  never  ceased 
to  regret  that  Ducane  did  not  follow  it  up  with  another. 
He  certainly  gave  Ducane  a  glad  and  cordial  invitation ; 
but  the  man  backed  away,  muttering,  "  You  want  to  kill  me, 
do  you?  "  and  then  he  followed  his  captor  out  into  the 
sunlight. 

Half-way  down  the  beach  Dick  stopped. 

"  You  can  go  and  say  good-bye  to  your  wife,"  he  said. 

For  the  first  time  he  saw  shame  on  Ducane's  face. 

"  No,"  he  said  sullenly ;  and  Dick  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  As  you  like,"  he  said  indifferently,  and  led  on  down  to 
the  canoes. 

Tempest  made  the  necessary  explanations  to  Good-night, 
and  the  uniforms  did  the  rest.  Good-night  was  troubled. 
Prestige  left  him  with  the  passing  of  the  white  man.  But 
he  gave  permission  graciously,  if  reluctantly,  and  watched 


350  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

the  canoes  shoot  round  the  grey  bend  of  the  river 
curiosity  on  his  good-humoured  face. 

"  Dat  white  man  go  straight  to  Sleepy-face  like  a 
de  kill,"  he  said.     "  Now,  why?  " 

Tempest  was  heart-sick  to  see  the  utter  letting-go  of  all 
traditions  of  manhood  in  Ducane,  the  man  who  had  once 
been  outwardly  his  equal.  He  kept  away  from  him  when 
ever  occasion  allowed.  Myers  and  Depache  did  the  same; 
very  much  as  dogs  who  sniff  suspiciously  and  from  a  dis- 
tance at  a  stranger  in  the  camp  whom  they  have  been  for- 
bidden to  touch.  But  Dick  seemed  to  find  actual  pleasure 
in  this  derelict  thing  which  he  had  salvaged.  Often  Tem- 
pest caught  him  watching  the  other  man  in  speculative 
interest,  as  a  cat  watches  a  mouse ;  and  he  was  repelled  and 
utterly  disgusted,  not  understanding  that  Dick  was  learn- 
ing this  man  through  and  through  in  order  that  he  might  be 
able  to  guard  Jennifer  against  him  at  all  points. 

Except  Ducane  no  man  in  the  little  patrol  ever  com- 
plained. But,  according  to  Myers'  often-asserted  belief 
"  that  waster  growls  enoiigh  fer  a  'ole  bloomin'  regimint. 
Why  don't  Inspector  make  'im  take  'is  turn  o'  doin'  the 
bloomin'  canoes?" 

This  was  to  Dick  after  Dick  had  stood  thigh-deep  in 
icy  water,  hanging  on  to  his  canoe  that  it  might  not  bang 
itself  to  pieces  on  the  rocky  landing  before  the  others 
could  load  it  up.  Tempest  had  done  the  same  for  his,  and 
the  day  before  that  duty  had  fallen  on  Myers  and  Depache. 
For  all  the  earth  was  wild  and  barren  and  lonely  now. 
Trees  had  gone  with  the  Thelon  River,  and  moss  was  far 
to  seek  and  little  to  find  after  much  labour.  Dick  laughed. 

"  Why,  he  takes  his  turn  at  eating  the  bannock,  anyway," 
he  said,  and  Myers  departed  in  fervent  profanity. 

Very  soon  Tempest  discovered  that  Ducane  had  neither 
the  strength  for  the  portages  nor  the  physical  courage  for 
the  rapids,  and  he  was  sick  always  when  they  put  the  sails 
up  and  charged  into  choppy  water.  And,  because  he  did 
not  work,  the  chill  of  his  constantly-wetted  clothes  struck 
in  to  the  marrow  of  him,  until  Tempest  feared  sometimes 
that  a  real  sickness  would  force  an  indefinite  halt  on  these 
Barren  Grounds. 

It  was  on  the  night  following  a  long  and  dangerous  day 


"THE   BARREN    GROUNDS"  351 

of  shooting  the  rapids,  where  the  river  fell  with  sharp 
zigzags  between  tall,  naked  cliffs  into  Baker  Lake,  that 
Dick  came  to  Tempest. 

"  Have  you  the  dope-box  handy  ?  "  he  said.  "  Ducane 
has  cramp  in  the  stomach,  and  he  doesn't  appear  to  be  lik- 
ing it  any." 

Tempest  caught  up  the  little  medicine-chest  and  went 
over  to  the  tent  which  Ducane  shared  with  Myers  and 
Dick.  He  sent  Myers  across  to  sleep  with  Depache,  and, 
with  Dick,  he  did  what  he  could  for  the  suffering  man. 
But  Ducane  was  seized  with  the  terrors  of  the  damned. 
He  believed  that  he  was  dying,  and  his  agony  of  mind 
and  body  was  a  painful  thing  for  Tempest  to  witness.  It 
did  not  seem  to  trouble  Dick.  He  did  all  that  he  could 
for  the  man  where  he  rolled  and  screamed  and  cursed;  but 
when  he  began  to  call  on  his  wife's  name  Tempest  saw  a 
dangerous  glitter  in  Dick's  eyes  for  a  moment.  Ducane 
started  up  suddenly. 

"  Robison  is  dead?"  he  cried.  "You  told  me  Robison 
was  dead." 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Tempest  soothingly.  "  But  you're  not 
going  to  die.  "  I've  seen  men  much  worse  than  you,  and 
they  got  over  it.  Take  some  more  of  this,  Ducane." 

"  You've  never  seen  men  make  more  row  about  it,"  said 
Dick.  "  How  are  we  to  tell  if  it's  pain  or  only  fright  ?  " 

"  Then — if  Robison 's  dead."  Ducane  was  writhing  and 
jerking  out  his  words  brokenly.  "  All  these  months  he's 
had  no  masses  said  for  his  soul — and  I'm  dying — and  I 
promised — I  swore  that  I'd  go  to  hell  if  I  broke  my 
word " 

"  Be  easy,"  said  Dick.  "  I  expect  your  word  won't  make 
so  much  difference  as  you  think.  And  you  don't  mean  to 
tell  me  that  you  have  the  elements  of  religion  in  you?  " 

He  was  kneeling  by  the  mattress  and  his  lean,  dark  face 
showed  mockingly  interested  in  the  faint,  blurring  light  of 
the  candle-lantern.  Ducane  turned  his  head  from  it. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  moaned.  "  Robison  had.  I  sup- 
pose a  man  needs  some  religion  when  he's  going  to  die." 

This  was  O'Hara's  cry,  and  the  repetition  of  it  struck 
Dick  unpleasantly. 

"  Tempest,"    cried    Ducane.     "  Tempest !     Come    here. 


352  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

I'll  tell  you.  I  won't  tell  that .  He'd  give  his  word 

and  break  it  before  the  breath  was  out  of  my  body.  Tem- 
pest !  " 

"All  right  All  right."  Tempest's  quiet  steady  voice 
came  into  the  following  torrent  of  curses  and  cries.  "  I'm 
here.  What  is  it  you  want  to  tell  me,  Ducane?  " 

He  took  Dick's  place  by  the  mattress,  and  Dick  stood 
up,  holding  the  weak  light  so  that  the  two  faces  shone  on 
the  gloom  for  him:  Ducane's,  with  ragged  beard  and  star- 
ing eyes  and  white  haggard  face  and  a  hand  that  fumbled 
incessantly  at  his  trembling  lips ;  Tempest's,  with  the  well- 
poised  head,  the  thick  hair  pushed  back  from  the  square 
forehead,  the  healthy-brown,  finely-cut  grave  face.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  he  had  never  really  seen  Tempest's 
physical  beauty  until  he  saw  it  in  contrast  with  Ducane. 
Then  Ducane  began  to  speak,  and  his  words  were  broken 
with  the  sobbing  of  a  child  and  the  curses  of  a  man. 

"  I  didn't  want  to  have  his  blood  on  my  hands.  But  it 
was  the  price.  If  he  got  off  and  shut  the  mouth  of  the 
Quatre  Fourches  Indians — it  was  the  price " 

"  He  was  to  save  your  skin  if  you  saved  his  soul,"  inter- 
preted Dick. 

"  I  didn't  want "  A  spasm  halted  Ducane,  and  then 

he  continued  with  the  tears  running  down  his  face.  "  How 
could  I  get  at  a  priest  out  here?  How  could  I  give  him 
the  paper?  But  I  promised.  There  were  to  be  masses 
for  his  soul — not  as  a  murderer " 

Tempest  remembered  afterwards  how  just  then  Dick's 
hand  bore  heavily  down  on  his  shoulder,  and  Dick  said: 

"  Let  me  take  your  place.  Let  me  hear  what  he  has  to 
say.  This  is  my  business — not  yours." 

Tempest  shook  him  off. 

"  Be  quiet,"  he  said.  "  What  is  that,  Ducane?  Robison 
was  a  murderer,  you  remember.  He  murdered  Ogilvie." 

"  No,  he  didn't.  I  don't  want  his  blood — but  how  could 
I  get  at  a  priest  out  here " 

Sharp  and  clear  before  his  brain-sight  Dick  was  seeing 
the  face  of  Grange's  Andree  when  he  had  asked  her  in 
Grange's  back-parlour  why  she  was  crying.  He  inter- 
rupted again. 

"  Tempest,  will  you  let  me — 


"THE    BARREN    GROUNDS"  353 

"  Will  you  hold  your  tongue  ?  "  said  Tempest  impatiently. 
"How  do  you  know  this,, Ducane?  Do  you  mean  to  say 
we've  hung  an  innocent  man?  Who  killed  Ogilvie  if  it 
wasn't  Robison?  " 

"  Oh,  my  God ! "  said  Dick,  in  nearer  prayer  than  he  had 
used  in  his  life  before.  But  he  could  not  keep  his  eyes 
from  that  brown,  bending  face  in  the  feeble  light. 

Ducane  lifted  himself  on  his  elbow.  > 

"  I  don't  want  Robison's  blood  on  my  hands,"  he  said. 
"  And  after  all,  it  was  his  business*,  wasn't  it  ?  Not  mine. 
If  he  loved  her  enough — he  said  a  girl  shouldn't  suffer  that 
penalty."  -  x 

"  But  you-  haven't  told  me  who  it  was,"  said  Tempest 
gently. 

"  Oh,  haven't  I  ?  "  said  Ducane.  "  It  was  Grange's  An- 
dree." 

Dick  had  expected  that  name.  But  he  felt  the  chill  run 
along  his  blood  as  he  heard  it.  Tempest  stared  in  utter 
maze. 

"  Andree  ?  "  he  said  slowly.  Then  his  voice  thickened. 
"Who  dared  invent  that  devilish  lie?  Was  it  you?  By 
,  if  you  did " 

'  No,  no,"  screamed  Ducane,  frightened  out  of  his  pain. 
"  I  didn't.  It's  true.  You'll  see  it  all  in  the  paper.  Robi- 
son promised  her  at  the  time  that  he'd  take  the  punishment 
if  it  was  found .  out.  But  he  wanted  masses  said  for  his 
so.ul.  He  wanted  them  i  said  for  a  martyr,  not  a  murderer. 
That's  why  he  gave  me  the  paper.  And  I  don't  want  his 
blood " 

The  impish  devil  in  Dick  was  laughing  at  the  mockery 
of  this.  Robison's  sacrifice  had  been  epic,  but  it  had  failed 
in  such  a  poor  feeble  way.  Failed  because  of  the  man's 
vanity.  He  could  not  bear  that  some  unknown  priest 
should  give  his  name  to  his  gods  as  a  murderer's  name. 
And  then  he  shuddered,  seeing  behind  this  something  of 
the  futility  of  human  plans. 

Tempest  stood  up. 

"  Where  is  that  paper  ?  "  he  asked. 

Dick's  ever-nimble  mind  was  working  instantly.  While 
Tempest's  voice  held  that  tone  he  was  not  to  be  trusted 
with  any  paper  of  importance.  For  the  moment  Dick 


Sot  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

hardly  considered  the  meaning  of  the  paper.  It  was  his 
natural  instinct  which  led  him  to  protect  anything  which 
could  compromise  anyone. 

"  It's  in  my  black  wallet — back  pocket  of  my  breeches." 
Ducane  did  not  know  what  he  had  done,  for  he  had 
utterly  forgotten  Tempest's  connection  with  Grange's 
Andree.  But  the  feeling  that  he  had  given  important 
information  to  these  two  men  sustained  him  until  he  almost 
forgot  his  suffering.  And  he  quite  forgot  that  he  was 
preparing  for  speedy  death. 

Before  Tempest  could  move  Dick  had  pounced  on  the 
wet  garment  where  it  hung  over  a  box.  He  remembered 
those  old  riding-breeches  in  the  days  when  he  had  first 
known  Jennifer.  They  were  torn  and  dirty  now;  but  he 
fumbled  with  shaking  fingers  for  the  buttoned  back  pocket, 
drew  out  the  silver-initialled  clasped  case  that  had  once 
been  so  familiar  to  him,  and  thrust  it  into  the  breast  of  his 
tunic.  Then  Tempest  was  standing  over  him. 

"  Where  is  the  paper  ?  "  he  said  again ;  and  before  that 
voice  the  ready  lie  halted  on  Dick's  lips. 
He  picked  the  breeches  up  and  shook  them. 
"  Not  here,"  he  said.    "  Ducane  must  have  put  the  wallet 
in  his  shirt  or  his  artiki  or  something.      Or  it  may  have 
dropped  on  the  ground.     We'd  never  find  it  to-night  in  all 
this  litter.     And  it's  too  confoundedly  dark  to  see  anything, 
anyway.    Wait  till  morning,  Tempest.     It  can't  get  lost  by 
then." 

He  was  talking  without  knowing  what  he  said.  Nothing 
seemed  very  real  to  him  at  that  moment  but  the  knowledge 
that  he  did  not  want  to  hear  Tempest  speak  again.  That 
curious,  crushed  tone  sounding  through  the  blackness  of 
the  tent  was  so  hideously  unlike  Tempest.  From  the 
mattress  Ducane  called  fretfully.  The  opiate  which 
Tempest  had  given  him  was  beginning  to  take  effect,  and 
the  fear  of  instant  death  was  no  longer  whipping  him  into 
frenzy. 

"  I'd  be  better  now  if  I  could  get  some  rest,"  he  said. 
"  If  you  two  would  only  shut  up  and  let  me  sleep  maybe 
I'll  live  after  all." 

"  That's  an  inducement,"  said  Dick,  treading  over  the 
bundles  and  boxes  to  him.  "  Leave  that  wallet  till  the 


"THE    BARREN    GROUNDS"  355 

morning,  Tempest.  We'll  look  for  it  then."  He  thrust 
it  further  into  his  shirt.  "  I  guess  it's  not  very  far  off," 
he  added. 

Tempest  did  not  speak  again.  He  turned,  groping  for 
the  flap,  and  went  out.  And  after  a  moment  Dick  fol- 
lowed, dodging  the  moonlight  that  shone  so  baldly  over 
the  bareness  without.  For  he  did  not  intend  that  this  man 
whom  he  and  Fate  were  trying-out  in  such  furnaces  should 
put  an  end  to  his  training  at  this  juncture.  Dick  was 
feeling  for  Tempest,  now,  very  keenly  and  anxiously;  but 
mixed  with  the  pity  was  a  strong  resentment,  an  impa- 
tience; even  a  savage  kind  of  gladness  that  Tempest  should 
know  at  last  the  full  worth  of  this  girl  whom  he  had  been 
squandering  the  treasure  of  his  life  upon. 

"  He  must  be  sickened  of  her  after  this,"  he  said.  "  He 
must  be  sickened  of  her.  Gad!  what  is  that  girl  made  of, 
anyhow?  And  how  is  he  going  to  stand  up  to  it,  I 
wonder." 

With  crafty  softness  he  followed  among  the  low  rocks 
as  the  tall,  black  shadows  bobbed  among  them  where  Tem- 
pest went  down  to  the  lake  shore.  He  shivered  in  the 
keen  air  and  the  pallid  moonlight.  If  Tempest  chose  to 
try  to  drown  himself  there  was  an  unpleasant  time  coming 
for  both.  But  Tempest  seemed  to  have  no  such  thought. 
He  turned  along  the  beach,  and  for  an  hour  Dick  watched 
him  come  and  go;  walking  slow  and  steadily,  with  hands 
deep  in  his  trouser-pockets  and  head  up  as  though  his 
eyes  were  looking  away  to  the  lonely  stars  that  edged  the 
far  level  rim  of  the  earth.  He  was  quite  evidently  thinking 
out  some  plan,  and  Dick  began  to  breathe  more  freely.  He 
could  meet  cunning  with  cunning;  but  he  could  not  have 
known  what  to  do  with  a  man  broken  down  by  grief.  He 
had  borne  his  own  share  of  heartaches,  and  knowledge  of 
his  endeavour  to  help  Tempest  was  not  the  least  of  them. 
But  at  least  he  could  face  the  world  with  bold  eyes  and 
a  joke  still,  and  if  Tempest  could  not,  he  would  feel  that 
disgrace  for  Tempest  as  fully  as  any  other. 

Tempest  had  suffered  in  silence  so  far,  and  not  even  the 
most  curious  tongues  $nd  ears  at  Grey  Wolf  could  know 
how  he  had  taken  his  punishment.  Dick  did  not  know. 
But  he  felt  desperately  that  he  must  know  soon.  He  must 


356  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

smash  down  that  barrier  in  Tempest  before  the  hardening 
process  had  gone  so  deep  that  the  man  below  was  stultified. 
Whether  he  was  competent  to  break  it  down  did  not  occur 
to  him.  He  meant  to  do  it,  and  these  things  are  not  done 
by  the  men  who  doubt  their  own  powers.  Of  Andree  he 
was  not  thinking  yet.  He  did  not  desire  to  think  of  her, 
nor  of  the  use  to  which  that  paper  might  have  to  be  put. 
But  neither  did  he  intend  to  give  it  up  to  Tempest.  His 
determination  there  was  quickened  by  that  jealousy  for 
Tempest's  honour  which  possessed  him  more  and  more  as 
he  realised  how  far  his  own  stood  from  it.  Besides,  with 
him  as  with  many  of  us,  the  knowledge  that  there  are 
some  people  walking  their  straight  way  in  the  world  seems 
to  accord  to  the  rest  the  licence  to  do  that  evil  which  is 
a  necessary  part  of  the  earth's  make-up. 

Dick  wheeled  at  last  and  went  back  to  the  tent.  He  lit 
a  match  and  stared  at  the  sleeping  Ducane  until  it  burnt 
his  fingers  and  went  out.  Then  he  flung  himself  down  on 
his  own  pile  of  bedding  and  lay  still.  Until  now  he  had 
accepted  the  fact  that  Ducane  was  alive  and  might  outlive 
him.  He  had  accepted  it  as  mankind  usually  accepts  the 
obvious  things,  and  he  had  expended  himself  in  trying  to 
find  a  way  round  the  edge  of  the  obstruction.  Now,  with 
a  shock  of  realisation,  it  had  come  to  him  this  night  that 
Ducane's  life  might  not  be  worth  much  after  all.  He  was 
a  prematurely  aged  man;  enfeebled  by  excesses;  weakened 
by  living  in  a  way  which  few  white  men  can  stand  for  long, 
and  with  no  stamina  of  brain  or  spirit  to  help  him  in  a 
crisis.  Lying  there,  the  longing  for  this  man's  death  swept 
over  Dick  like  a  torrent  of  fire;  blotting  out  all  but  the 
remembrance  that  there  was  a  hard  journey  yet  before 
them,  and  that  no  law  of  men  nor  angels  could  make  it 
necessary  for  him  to  smooth  the  trail  before  Ducane's  feet. 
And  if  Ducane  stumbled  and  fell  and  one  day  did  not  get 
up  again,  then,  and  only  then,  would  Dick  bring  his  thanks- 
giving to  whichever  altar  pleased  him  best,  and  say, 
"  Allah  is  good." 

In  the  cold,  pale  dawn  he  was  up  and  away  down  the 
beach  to  a  little  jutting  bluff  behind  which  he  could  read 
that  paper  of  Robison's  in  safety.  The  empty  canoes 
beached  on  the  naked  shore;  the  two  little  white  tents  sit- 


"THE   BARREN    GROUNDS"  357 

ting  together  on  the  stony  desolation  struck  him  anew 
with  the  paltry  weakness  of  them.  Like  a  flake  of  foam 
off  the  lake  they  marked  the  shore  for  a  moment  and 
passed,  leaving  all  as  it  had  been  and  would  continue  to 
be.  Those  stones  and  that  grey  tossing  lake  and  these 
barren  cliffs  were  the  only  things  unswayed  by  passion, 
unbroken  by  life.  There  was  a  stateliness,  a  dignity  in 
the  slowness  and  the  surety  of  their  changes.  To  Dick 
there  was  an  irrelevant  mockery,  an  almost  disgusting 
levity  about  the  rapidity  of  the  changes  in  man.  The 
difference  seemed  to  put  him,  with  his  few  puny  years, 
on  a  level  with  those  frail  canoes  and  the  tents  that 
stamped  no  impress  on  the  stones  below  them. 

Then  he  backed  up  from  the  wind  round  the  corner  of 
the  bluff,  lit  his  pipe,  and  opened  the  wallet  to  find  out 
in  what  words  Robison  and  Ducane  had  endeavoured  to 
insure  a  future  paradise  for  both. 

There  were  a  score  of  things  in  the  wallet.  Unpaid  bills 
in  plenty;  a  note  from  Jennifer — Dick  knew  her  writing, 
and  he  thrust  that  sheet  back  hastily;  some  accounts;  some 
memorandums;  finally  a  dirty  piece  of  paper  folded  very 
small. 

"  I  fancy  that  looks  like  Robison's  thumb-mark,"  said 
Dick,  and  he  opened  it,  smothering  an  oath  at  seeing  that 
it  was  written  in  smudged  pencil. 

Then,  picking  out  the  words  in  Ducane's  crabbed  hand- 
writing with  difficulty,  he  read  it. 

The  whole  of  the  account  was  ill-constructed  and  full  of 
repetition.  It  had  evidently  been  drawn  up  on  that  night 
at  Chipewyan  when  Ducane  had  decided  to  decamp  and 
Robison  had  preferred  to  chance  the  possibility  that  Dick 
might  have  come  on  other  business.  First  came  Robison's 
promise  to  get  Ducane  smuggled  away  east  towards  Hud- 
son Bay  through  the  Quatre  Fourches  Indians,  on  condi- 
tion that  Ducane  agreed  to  the  following  requirements. 
Robison's  name  was  set  in  his  big  black  hand  to  that.  And 
then  came  the  requirements;  and  before  Dick  had  got 
through  their  tangled  phraseology  and  their  strange  mix- 
ture of  cant  and  bold  courage  and  real  faith,  he  was  not 
feeling  himself  such  a  very  much  better  man  than  this 
coarse,  blunt-minded  breed,  who  had  gone  to  his  death  for 


358  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

love  of  a  woman  who  did  not  love  him,  trusting  to  this 
paper  to  absolve  him  from  purgatory. 

Stripped  of  clogging  words  the  details  of  the  whole  affair 
were  bald ;  much  more  bald  than  Dick  had  hoped  for.  They 
told  how  Robison  had  gone  to  bring  Andree  back  from  the 
English  Mission:  how  they  had  met  Ogilvie  in  the  trail; 
how  the  two  men  had  quarrelled  and  Ogilvie  had  pulled 
out  his  knife.  How  Andree  had  snatched  the  knife  and 
stabbed  Ogilvie,  and  how  Robison  had  dragged  him  off  into 
the  coulee  and  flung  him  down  among  the  thick  under- 
growth and  snow.  The  paper  also  told  how  he  had  in- 
tended to  bury  the  bones  as  soon  as  the  snow  was  gone, 
and  how  he  had  subdued  Andree's  alarm  at  what  she  had 
done  by  promising  to  shoulder  the  possible  results.  It 
desired  any  priest  who  should  receive  this  paper  to  pray 
for  the  soul  of  Kesikak  Robison,  who  had  died  to  save 
the  life  of  another,  and  added  that  Ducane  would  pay 
all  the  necessary  charges. 

Both  men  had  signed  this,  and  at  the  foot  was  set  in 
full  the  oath  by  which  Ducane  swore  to  deliver  the  paper 
and  pay  the  money.  This  Ducane  had  signed  alone. 

Dick  folded  the  paper  and  put  it  back  in  the  pocket- 
book.  He  was  thinking  first  that  Ducane  had  either 
money  concealed  about  his  rags,  or  that  he  was  in  com- 
munication with  some  person  "  outside."  In  the  latter  case 
there  might  be  the  chance  of  bail  perhaps,  or  of  influence 
set  to  work  to  free  him.  Dick  made  a  mental  note  of 
that.  Then  he  considered  the  other  matter.  It  was  prob- 
able that  if  Andree  had  pleaded  manslaughter  at  the 
beginning  she  might  have  got  off  lightly.  For  Ogilvie 
was  known  to  have  been  drunk,  and  had  assuredly  been 
impertinent.  But  she  had  Robison's  death  also  on  her 
shoulders  now.  Dick  understood  at  last  her  cry  to  him 
in  Grange's  back-parlour  on  the  day  of  the  trial. 

"  If  he  want  to  die,  why  do  it  matter?"  she  had  said; 
and  he  knew  Andree  sufficiently  to  deduce  her  reasoning. 
She  did  not  want  to  die,  and  if  Robison  did,  why  should 
she  not  let  him?  Dick  grinned  over  the  simplicity  of  it. 
Andree's  wits  would  not  carry  her  further  than  that,  and 
most  assuredly  her  conscience  would  not.  For  there  was 
in  Andree  a  quality  which  belongs  to  a  certain  class*  of 
masculine  minds;  the  quality  which  enables  a  person  to 


"THE   BARREN    GROUNDS"  359 

accept  the  thing  which  has  occurred  as  inevitable,  and 
therefore  not  to  be  regretted  or  remembered.  But  there 
are  few  women  who  can  look  at  life  from  that  stand- 
point. 

"  She  could  never  begin  to  appreciate  that  sacrifice,"  he 
said.  "  Little  devil." 

And  then,  horribly,  vividly,  the  truth  came  back  to  him 
that  Andree  loved  him;  that  he  had  taught  her  to  love  him. 
And  after  that  he  looked  up  at  a  step  on  the  gravelly 
beach,  and  saw  Tempest. 

"  I  guessed  you  were  here,"  said  Tempest.  "  I  have 
come  for  that  paper,  Heriot." 

Tempest  had  always  called  him  Heriot  since  Andree 
came  between  them.  But  to-day  the  name  struck  Dick's 
ears  with  sharpened  force.  It  reminded  him  that  this 
breaking  of  a  friendship  which  would  leave  raw  edges 
through  the  length  of  two  men's  lives  would  trouble  Andree 
no  more  than  the  death  of  Robison,  or  of  Ogilvie,  or  of 
that  wild  O'Hara  who  had  died  with  her  name  in  his 
mouth. 

"  I  haven't  got  the  paper,"  he  said.  "  Couldn't 
you ?  " 

Tempest  shook  his  head  slightly,  like  a  stag  when  the 
midges  are  about  him. 

"It  is  true,  then?"  he  asked.  "It  reads  like  truth? 
Tell  me,  Dick,  for  I  have  got  to  know  it  now." 

"  Why,  yes."  Dick  tried  to  hide  his  nervousness  by 
knocking  out  his  pipe  and  thrusting  it  into  his  side-pocket. 
"  Bound  to  be  extenuating  circumstances  when  the  matter's 
gone  into,  though.  Ducane's  so  much  better  this  morning 
that  I  think  we  needn't  delay  at  all.  Did  you  come  to 
call  me  for  breakfast?" 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  that  paper?"  asked 
Tempest. 

"Keep  it — for  the  present,  anyway." 

"  You  will  give  it  to  me,"  said  Tempest  quietly. 

"  Not  on  your  life."  Dick  buttoned  up  his  tunic  with 
a  short  laugh.  "  Don't  talk  that  way,"  he  said.  "  You 
know  you  don't  expect  me  to  give  it." 

The  rare  fury  blazed  into  Tempest's  face.  Those  care- 
less words  had  knocked  the  skin  off  the  unhealed  sore 
below,  and  though  the  spirit  had  won  out  to  a  certain 


360  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

staying-point  during  the  night,  the  natural  reaction  had 
left  his  temper  less  under  control. 

"  Then  I  will  have  it  taken  from  you  by  force,"  he  said, 
and  Dick  saw  with  approval  the  quick  tightening-up  of  the 
slim  body.  "  I  am  your  superior  officer." 

"  If  you  do  you're  not  the  superior  man,"  said  Dick 
coolly.  "  Come  and  get  it  if  you  want  it,  for  I  assure 
you  you  won't  have  it  any  other  way." 

He  did  not  know  what  reckless  demon  in  him  prompted 
the  challenge.  But  Tempest  answered  to  it  before  the 
words  were  off  his  lips,  and  the  two  men  closed;  knee 
locked  in  knee,  arms  gripped,  and  flushed  faces  near  as 
they  swayed. 

Dick  and  Tempest  had  wrestled  many  times  in  the  days 
that  were  gone,  and  Tempest's  lithe  quickness  had  matched 
Dick's  strength  equally  until  Tempest  learnt  a  throw  for 
which  Dick  could  not  find  the  counter.  He  had  found  it 
since,  in  Chicago,  and  had  seen  a  back  broken  by  the  appli- 
cation of  it.  Now  he  felt  Tempest  manoeuvring  for  that 
throw,  and  a  cruel  laugh  ran  into  his  eyes.  Tempest  did 
not  know  what  could  come  of  it  now — if  Dick  chose.  He 
baulked  it  by  a  sudden  feint,  and  again  they  bent  and 
swayed,  spurting  the  gravel  out  from  under  their  struggling 
feet,  and  feeling  the  lust  of  fight  generate  with  each  hot, 
hard-breathing  moment. 

It  seemed  as  though  all  the  pain  and  bad  blood  and  evil 
tempers  of  the  last  months  had  culminated  at  last,  and 
both  men  gloried  in  the  knowledge,  and  fought  to  ease 
themselves  of  the  load.  Inch  by  inch  Tempest  was  feeling 
for  the  throw  again,  and  this  time  Dick  did  not  stop  him. 
The  fighting  savage  had  been  too  fully  roused  in  him,  and 
he  was  mad  with  desire  to  prove  himself  the  better  man. 
He  slacked  his  body  slightly,  letting  Tempest  get  home 
to  the  side-swing  that  preceded  the  fall.  Then,  at  the  one 
instant  when  the  other  man's  balance  was  unguarded,  Dick 
crouched,  shifted  his  grip  quick  as  lightning,  and  flung 
Tempest  over  his  shoulder. 

Tempest  fell  with  a  thud  on  the  stones  of  the  beach. 
Being  utterly  unprepared  he  had  made  no  resistance,  and 
Dick  staggered  up  and  looked  at  him,  breathing  heavily 
through  his  nostrils.  Tempest  lay  on  his  face  with  one 


"THE   BARREN    GROUNDS"  361 

arm  under  him  and  his  body  curled  up.  He  did  not  move, 
and  for  a  space  Dick  stared  at  him  without  emotion.  Then 
terror  smote  him  in  such  a  blinding,  tearing  agony  that  it 
felt  like  death  itself.  He  dropped  on  his  knees  by  Tem- 
pest, but  he  dared  not  touch  him.  From  somewhere  he 
heard  a  voice  saying: 

"  Have  I  broken  his  back?  Have  I  broken  his  back? 
Have  I  broken  his  back  ?  " 

At  first  he  did  not  know  that  voice  for  his  own.  Then 
he  traced  it  to  his  moving  lips  and  at  once  began  to  take 
a  close  and  curious  interest  in  the  individuality  of  this  "  I." 
It  did  not  seem  to  be  really  himself,  any  more  than  that 
still  thing  with  the  hidden  face  seemed  to  be  really  Tem- 
pest. Then  why  was  he  afraid?  Why  was  he  so  sick 
afraid  that  his  hands  were  numb  and  the  little  pebbles 
under  his  knee-bones  burnt  like  fire?  Part  of  his  brain 
was  searching  for  a  reason,  and  presently  out  of  the  back 
of  his  mind  there  shaped  the  memory  of  a  sketch  of  his 
paste3  on  the  wall  of  the  bunk-room  at  Grey  Wolf.  It 
was  just  an  eye,  gazing  indifferently  over  the  edge  of  the 
universe  into  space,  and  he  had  drawn  it  to  illustrate  the 
callousness  of  that  Power  which,  men  alleged,  controlled 
creation  and  all  things  within  it.  Now  he  knew  that  he 
had  drawn  a  true  thing,  only  the  Eye  was  not  indifferent. 
It  was  watching  him.  It  had  been  watching  all  the  time, 
taking  that  close  and  curious  interest  in  his  individuality 
which  he  took  himself. 

In  a  spasm  of  uncontrollable  fear  he  hid  his  face  from 
it,  but  he  knew  that  it  was  watching  still.  It  was  that 
Thing  which  Hindoo,  and  Buddhist,  and  Christian  and 
Mahomedan  each  give  their  own  name  to  and  worship.  It 
was  the  Thing  he  had  jested  about  and  made  a  mock  of. 
And  now  it  was  making  a  mock  and  a  jest  of  him. 

He  put  his  fingers  out  to  touch  Tempest  and  pulled  them 
away  again. 

"  If  I  knew  he  was  dead,"  he  heard  his  voice  saying.  "  I 
could  stand  it  if  I  knew  he  was  dead.  But  it's  such  a 
ghastly  thing  to  break  a  man's  back.  He  could  live  quite 
a  while  with  a  broken  back." 

The  sound  of  his  voice  steadied  him  somewhat.  It 
seemed  the  only  human  thing  in  this  cold,  barren  place 


362  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

where  he  knelt  alone  under  his  sin  with  that  Eye  watching. 
"  I  must  get  help,"  he  said,  and  stood  up.  For  a  minute 
he  stood  as  if  in  thought,  but  he  was  not  thinking.  "  Cer- 
tainly I  must  get  help,"  he  said  again,  and  turned  down 
the  beach  and  went  back  to  the  camp. 

Among  the  little  stones  Myers  was  building  a  driftwood 
fire  and  putting  on  the  kettle  to  boil.  Depache,  moving  his 
long  limbs  slowly,  rolled  the  bedding  and  strapped  it,  whis- 
tling a  little  song  the  while.  Within  the  nearer  tent  Ducane 
was  cursing.  Dick  rubbed  his  eyes,  standing  still  beside 
the  fire.  These  men  did  not  seem  real  either.  They  looked 
like  cut-out  paper,  pasted  against  the  colourless  background 
of  cliffs,  and  it  seemed  such  a  silly  thing  to  speak  to  paper 
men. 

"  Tempest,"  he  said,  and  stopped,  wondering  if  they 
could  possibly  hear  him.  And  then  he  raised  his  voice. 
"  The  inspector  is  hurt,"  he  said.  "  Bring  a  couple  of 
paddles  and  a  blanket.  We  must  carry  him  in." 

He  believed  that  the  men  swore  in  amaze  and  asked 
questions.  He  believed  that  they  hurried  him  along  the 
beach,  dragging  the  paddles  and  the  scarlet  Hudson  Bay 
blanket  with  them.  But  he  did  not  talk  to  them.  The 
voice  inside  his  head  continued  to  repeat,  "  Have  I  broken 
his  back  ?  Have  I  broken  his  back  ?  "  and  another  voice, 
the  one  which  he  knew  for  the  inevitable  cynic  devil  in  his 
blood,  returned,  "  Well,  you  tried  to.  What  are  you  making 
a  fuss  about?  You  tried  to." 

Between  them  the  three  men  carried  Tempest  back  to  the 
tent,  and  rubbed  him,  and  put  heated  stones  to  his  feet 
and  cloths  wrung  out  of  hot  water  over  his  heart.  It  was 
Depache  who  commanded  here,  with  his  soft  eyes  gleam- 
ing, and  Dick  who  obeyed,  enraged  at  the  futile  imbecility 
of  it  all.  Could  any  reasonable  man  suppose  that  hot 
stones  and  fomentations  were  of  use  when  the  Power  rep- 
resented by  that  watching  Eye  was  alone  able  to  control 
the  issue? 

"We  should  ask  It,"  he  began  to  say  stupidly,  once  or 
twice.  "We  are  no  good,  you  know.  We  should  ask  It." 

But  his  words  were  brushed  aside,  and  he  was  bidden 
plunge  his  hands  into  the  scalding  water  to  wring  those 
hot  cloths  which  could  not  bring  the  colour  of  life  back 
to  Tempest's  skin.  Depache  was  making  little  broken 


"THE    BARREN    GROUNDS"  363 

prayers  as  he  worked,  and  Dick  looked  at  him  with  angry 
eyes. 

"Why  didn't  you  do  that  before?"  he  said;  and  then 
Depache  straightened,  with  his  melancholy,  womanish  face 
lighted  exultantly. 

"  But  it  is  that  he  will  live/'  he  cried.  "  See  the  blood 
come  back  under  the  skin?  He  will  live." 

Dick  looked  on  the  reddened  flesh  where  the  cloths  were 
lifted.  He  saw  the  dark  eyelashes  quiver  just  a  little,  and 
he  stood  up  and  went  to  the  door,  feeling  physically  sick. 

"  For  he  doesn't  know  yet  that  his  back  is  probably 
broken,"  he  told  himself.  "  He  doesn't  know  that." 

Behind  him  he  heard  Depache  speak  as  one  speaks  to 
a  man  who  yet  belongs  to  the  ordinary  life  of  men,  and 
that  uncontrollable  fear  seized  him  again,  chasing  him  out 
along  the  beach  with  hasty,  unsteady  feet.  He  could  not 
face  the  consequences  of  this.  He  could  not  face  that 
which  Tempest  might  be  facing  now. 

The  scent  of  wood  smoke  drifted  to  him  along  the  barren 
beach;  the  smell  of  rain  was  sweet  and  heavy  in  the  air; 
lake  and  hills  and  sky  lay  colourless  and  softly  tender 
where  seabirds  drifted  over,  sending  down  thin  cries. 

Dick  did  not  know  if  it  were  mid-day  or  evening  or  early 
morning  still.  A  strange,  detached  feeling  of  separation 
from  all  the  natural  things  possessed  him.  There  did  not 
seem  anything  to  do  or  anywhere  to  go.  He  was  helpless ; 
helpless  to  avert  the  consequences  of  his  own  passion; 
helpless  in  the  hands  of  that  omnipotent  Life  which  flushes 
the  veins  of  men  for  a  little  space,  and  then  withdraws 
to  fulfil  itself  in  other  forms. 

Because  Dick  had  never  loved  anyone  as  he  loved  Tem- 
pest he  had  never  known  grief  before.  He  had  never 
known  the  need  of  a  God  before.  He  had  never  known 
utter  fear.  He  knew  them  all  now,  and  he  staggered  under 
the  weight  of  them.  In  a  little  while  he  would  have  to  go 
back  to  Tempest.  He  would  have  to  go,  and  the  horror 
of  that  thought  plucked  all  the  defiant  unbelief  out  of  him 
for  the  time. 

"  God,"  he  said  with  stammering  lips.  "  Oh,  God !  Oh, 
God !  " 

And  then  he  walked  on,  am!  walked  back  again,  still 
keeping  the  edge  of  the  bluff  where  he  and  Tempest  bad 


364  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

fought  between  him  and  the  camp.  And  at  last,  not  know- 
ing why  he  returned  any  more  than  he  knew  why  he  had 
gone  out,  he  passed  the  bluff  towards  the  camp  again. 

The  tents  were  struck,  and  on  the  beach  men  moved, 
loading  up  the  canoes.  Dick  stared,  rubbing  both  his 
eyes.  Was  Tempest  dead,  or  was  he  on  his  feet  again;  or, 
knowing  the  end  in  store  for  him,  did  he  want  to  go  nearer 
the  haunts  of  men  to  die?  There  were  three  men  only 
moving  on  the  beach,  and  not  any  of  those  three  were 
Tempest.  Dick  shut  his  eyes;  standing  still,  and  strug- 
gling fiercely  for  control  over  himself.  He  must  go  and 
see.  He  must  go.  Suddenly  he  laughed  a  little.  That 
Power  which  he  had  made  a  jest  of  was  having  its  money's 
worth  out  of  him  now.  Then  he  set  his  teeth  and  walked 
straight  through  the  dismantled  camp  and  up  to  the  canoe 
which  held  Tempest. 

Tempest  was  lying  quite  flat  in  the  bottom,  and  the  lines 
on  his  face  showed  physical  pain.  But  he  looked  up, 
smiling. 

"  You  nearly  arranged  for  me  to  go  home  feet  first," 
he  said.  "  Where  did  you  learn  that  counter,  you  beggar  ?  " 

"  Is  your  back  broken  ?  "  demanded  Dick. 

"  No."  Tempest  smiled  again.  "  You've  given  me  a 
pretty  nasty  rick,  though.  I  won't  be  much  use  for  some 
days.  You'll  have  to  make  Ducane  work  now,  Dick.  I 
guess  I  won't  be  the  only  one  to  suffer  over  this." 

Dick  had  heard  the  first  word  only.  Against  his  will, 
against  his  knowledge,  sobs  were  shaking  his  body  and  his 
eyes  burnt  with  hot  tears.  He  turned  away  sharply,  and 
went  up  the  beach,  seeking  mechanically  for  some  of  the 
freight  to  carry  to  the  canoe.  Here  he  stumbled  against 
Ducane,  and  Ducane  caught  hold  of  his  tunic,  complaining 
fretfully. 

"  This  is  a  nice  thing,"  he  said.  "  Does  Tempest  expect 
that  I'm  going  to  take  his  place,  I'd  like  to  know?  I'm 
not  fit.  How  can  I " 

For  the  first  time  this  morning  nature  offered  some  relief 
to  Dick. 

"  Oh,  go  to  hell,"  he  said  savagely.  And  then  he 
laughed  in  sudden  exultation.  For  he  himself  had  just 
come  out  of  it. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

"  THE    LAW    IS    POWERLESS    THERE  " 

"  THE  Indians  throughout  this  region  come  yearly  to  Fort 
Resolution  for  Treaty,  and,  having  no  permanent  camps, 
would  not  be  benefited  by  a  Police  Department  in  the 
vicinity.  The  tribes  are  Yellow  Knives  and  Dog  Ribs, 
and  they  bear  a  fairly  good  reputation  and  seem  passably 
prosperous.  The  Esquimaux " 

Tempest  turned  in  the  big  chair  where  he  sat  propped 
with  all  the  pillows  which  the  barracks  at  Fort  Churchill 
could  muster. 

"  Those  dogs  are  making  an  awful  row,"  he  said. 

"  They  always  fight  in  the  first  snow.  Besides,  the  moon 
excites  them."  Dick  drove  his  pen  into  the  ink  again. 
"Well?  "  he  said.  "  The  Esquimaux  are  not  a  very  potent 
factor.  I  guess  they  can  worry  along  all  right  without  us. 

"  So  long  as  they  dress  by  their  ancient  laws  and  cus- 
toms they're  better  without  the  white-man  element.  Yes. 
Er — The  Esquimaux  on  the  Hudson  Bay  side  of  Height 
of  Land " 

Dick  went  on  writing,  and  for  a  while  there  was  no 
sound  in  the  room  but  Tempest's  quiet  voice  and  the 
scribble  of  the  pen  and  the  noise  of  the  husky  dogs  out- 
side the  window.  The  blind  was  up,  and  the  white  square 
of  the  moonlit  snow  showed  beyond  the  black  shadows  of 
the  buildings.  Occasionally  a  dog  shot  across  it,  followed 
by  the  flickering  ghosts  of  the  mob.  Then  the  square  lay 
naked  again,  and  in  the  little  room  where  the  black 
stove-pipe  ran,  oozing  warmth,  the  two  men  worked  on 
steadily. 

It  was  just  the  fitting  of  another  little  grey  unnoticed 
chip  of  mosaic  into  the  huge  pavement  of  the  Empire 
which  thrusts  its  length  around  the  world;  just  a  curt 
telling  of  the  necessary  things  with  all  that  made  it  a 
human  record  left  out.  In  the  Parliament  Buildings  at 

365 


S66  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Ottawa  one  man  would  read  it.  In  the  printing-room  and 
proof-room  one  or  two  more  would  run  over  it  with  skilled 
eyes  and  brain  elsewhere  before  it  went  to  swell  the  size 
of  the  yearly  Blue  Book  of  the  Royal  North- West  Mounted 
Police.  Some  day  in  argument  a  clerk  or  a  minister  might 
turn  up  the  report  and  find  that  the  Hudson  Bay  Customs 
could  conveniently  be  collected  from  Churchill.  If  a 
police  map  were  near  he  might  run  his  finger  north  until, 
between  fifty-eight  and  sixty  degrees  of  latitude,  he  found 
the  little  red  flag  which  proclaimed  that  Fort  Churchill 
was  a  post  of  the  police.  It  might  even  interest  him  to 
see  that  it  was  just  two  thousand  nine  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  miles  from  Liverpool,  England.  But  this  was  not 
likely;  nor  was  it  likely  that  he  or  any  other  man  would 
read,  word  by  word,  the  report-sheets  which  lay  on  the 
floor  round  Dick's  feet. 

In  Dick's  black  decided  hand  some  of  the  headings 
showed  on  those  scattered  papers.  Game;  Topography; 
Temperature;  Inhabitants;  each  slip  filled  up  with  curt, 
direct  sentences  which  said  nothing  of  the  dreams  under 
a  blue  sky  with  a  fair  wind  in  the  sails;  of  the  struggles 
and  the  suffering;  of  the  solitude  when  the  sound  of  a 
little  bird  calling  floods  the  heart  with  a  longing  for  home. 
The  actual  mileage  was  added  to  the  foot  of  the  report, 
as  witness  to  the  labours  of  four  white  men  in  the  uncon- 
sidered  areas;  but  few  would  heed  it,  although  it  ran  well 
into  the  thousands.  For  this  patrol  was  to  stand  with  so 
many  others  among  the  things  which  do  not  matter  par- 
ticularly, and  both  men  knew  it  as  they  patiently  built  up 
the  report,  page  by  page;  Tempest  in  his  chair,  reading 
from  blotted  note-books  and  diaries;  Dick  at  the  table, 
with  his  tunic-collar  loosed  and  his  forehead  knit  and  the 
rough  edge  of  his  hand  making  a  little  scratching  sound 
on  the  paper  as  he  wrote. 

It  was  Tempest  who  sat  crippled  in  the  chair,  but  it  was 
Dick's  face  which  showed  the  burden  of  those  past  days. 
Ducane  had  been  worse  than  useless  in  the  canoes,  and  the 
journey  down  the  Beverley  Lake  and  along  Chesterfield 
Inlet  had  dragged  on  until  Dick  was  maddened  beyond 
thought  or  speech.  A  cold,  driving  rain  which  no  coverings 
could  keep  out  had  put  rheumatism  into  that  ricked  back 


"  THE  LAW  IS  POWERLESS  THERE  "    367 

of  Tempest's,  and  the  two  days  of  sailing  and  paddling  up 
Hudson  Bay  itself  into  Fullerton,  when  it  was  found  that 
the  steamer  had  not  waited  for  them,  did  not  ease  the 
trouble.  Rough  weather  between  Fullerton  and  Fort 
Churchill,  with  the  little  open  steamer  battling  through 
the  big  seas  and  an  early  winter  spurting  in  icy  blasts 
down  from  the  North  had  broken  even  Tempest's  courage, 
and  he  accepted  the  decision  of  the  men  at  the  Fort 
Churchill  post,  and  prepared  to  surrender  up  his  reins  of 
government  to  Dick. 

Already  Dick  had  taken  up  all  those  threads  which  it 
had  been  necessary  for  Tempest  to  drop.  He  had  man- 
aged Ducane  as  no  other  man  could  have  done;  he  had 
arranged  the  slow  and  exceedingly  difficult  matter  of  pro- 
curing dog-train  outfits,  and  in  the  morning  he  was  to 
leave  with  Ducane  and  Myers  for  the  South.  Previous 
instructions  had  transferred  Depachc  to  the  Fullerton  post, 
and  Tempest  would  not  soon  forget  the  trouble  in  the  man's 
gentle  eyes  as  the  little  steamer  snorted  off  from  the  wharf. 
Depache  had  looked  after  him  with  wonderful  tenderness 
and  forethought,  and  when  he  was  left  behind  Tempest 
suffered  considerably  under  Myers'  rough  hands  and  Dick's 
abrupt  strength.  Now  he  dropped  the  last  pencil-scrawled, 
weather-stained  note-book  with  a  sigli  of  relief. 

"  I  guess  it's  all  in,"  he  said.  "  Bring  it  here  and  let 
me  look  over  it.  You've  got  Earner's  Fullerton  reports 
all  right,  have  you?" 

"  Yes.  He's  wanting  a  whole  lot  of  lumber  sent  in 
next  spring.  Hope  he'll  get  it."  Dick  gathered  up  the 
sheets  and  carried  them  over  the  room.  "  Do  you  want 
those  ermine  skins  sent  east  right  away  ?  " 

"  Not  if  you  can  get  them  properly  cured  and  made  up 
in  Winnipeg.  If  you  wire  Harley  to  meet  you  at  the  sta- 
tion he'll  take  charge  of  them.  Tell  him  I  want  them  fixed 
into  the  fashionable  kind  of  furs  women  wear  now.  And 
tell  him  they're  for  my  sister.  He  knows  Betty." 

So  did  Dick,  and  his  memory  jumped  back  to  days  in 
the  old  home  far  off  in  Ontario  when  he  and  Betty  had 
climbed  apple-trees  together  and  pelted  Tempest  where  he 
lay  in  the  long  grass  with  "  The  Canterbury  Tales,"  or 
Schiller,  or,  in  later  days,  Tolstoi  or  Schopenhauer.  He 


368  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

looked  down  at  Tempest's  long  hands  moving  with  difficulty 
among  the  papers,  and  looked  away  again  sharply. 

"  Hellier  is  making  things  good  and  snug  here  for  the 
winter,"  he  said.  "  They've  hauled  no  end  of  wood,  and 
the  whole  place  has  been  freshly  muddied-up.  You  will 
be  happy  as  a  coon  in  a  hollow  tree,  Tempest." 

"  Yes.  I  wish  I  could  have  got  through."  Tempest's 
eyes  darkened.  "  Hellier  has  written  the  Commissioner, 
telling  him  that  I'm  not  fit." 

"  He'd  know  that,  I  imagine.  He  knows  you.  And  it's 
going  to  be  a  beast  of  a  time.  Soft  snow  and  rotten  dogs. 
I've  got  scratch  teams  if  ever  I  saw  them!  Thank  the 
Lord,  Myers  is  a  first-class  driver,  though." 

"  Yes,"  said  Tempest  absently. 

He  went  on  reading,  and  Dick  thrust  some  more  wood 
in  the  stove;  lit  his  fourth  pipe  that  evening;  roamed 
through  the  room  restlessly,  straying  at  last  to  the  blind- 
less  window.  He  smoked  in  long  breaths,  screwing  his 
eyes  up,  as  a  painter  does  in  seeking  for  his  values.  But 
he  was  not  thinking  of  that  bold  beauty  which  the  snowy 
night  held. 

The  strained,  unnatural  mood  which  had  held  him  for 
days  after  that  fight  with  Tempest  had  gone,  as  a  matter 
of  course.  But  he  could  not  wholly  forget  it.  He  could 
not  forget  that  for  the  time  he  had  absolutely  believed  in 
a  God:  that  he  had  cried  to  that  God  for  help:  that  he 
had  felt  the  reality  of  that  God  more  keenly  than  he  had 
ever  felt  anything  in  his  life.  He  knew  that  Tempest 
believed,  and  he  guessed  that  here  lay  the  secret  of  Tem- 
pest's unclouded  eyes  and  calm  forehead,  and  his  patience 
under  pain.  But  that  did  not  clear  the  matter  for  his  own 
mind.  Logically,  without  bias,  he  had  endeavoured  to 
thresh  it  out,  and  he  could  see  no  reason  for  belief  in  an 
all-prevailing  Godhead.  The  sorrow  and  the  torment  of 
the  world  was  to  his  understanding  clear  proof  against  it, 
and  the  comparison  between  his  own  virile  strength  and 
Tempest's  bowed  body  sharpened  that  proof  until  he  turned 
from  the  struggle  bitterly.  But  over  and  over  again,  un- 
bidden, unwelcomed,  it  came  back. 

He  leaned  his  knee  on  the  window-sill,  staring  out  with 
both  hands  in  his  pockets.  And  his  face  was  drawn  into 


"THE  LAW  IS  POWERLESS  THERE"    369 

a  heavy  frown.  Suddenly  he  felt  that  Tempest  was  watch- 
ing him,  and  he  swung  round,  reddening  angrily.  Each 
day  it  became  harder  to  meet  the  light  in  those  uncon- 
quered  eyes. 

"  You've  had  a  hard  day,"  said  Tempest.  "  But  every- 
thing is  fixed  now,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Why,  yes.  I  could  only  get  four  dogs  for  each  team, 
and  they're  a  mangy  lot.  Mongrel  curs,  most  of  'em;  one 
or  two  huskies,  and  a  Mackenzie  hound.  He'll  pull  like 
a  bullock  if  the  huskies  don't  kill  him.  They'll  try.  It's 
not  going  to  be  a  good  trip.  Snow  isn't  fit.  But  Myers 
and  I  are  in  splendid  fettle,  and  Ducane  has  picked  up 
a  lot.  We  have  a  breed  too,  as  far  as  Split  Lake.  Couldn't 
persuade  him  to  come  further.  He's  in  for  the  trap- 
ping." 

Tempest  asked  several  questions  more,  and  then  came 
silence  again.  Across  the  passage  the  men  of  Fort  Church- 
ill detachment  were  laughing  uproariously  in  the  mess- 
room.  Here,  in  Hellier's  private  room,  these  two  men  of 
the  little  northern  patrol  sat  without  speech.  Dick  was 
searching  for  words,  but  he  could  not  find  them.  Twice 
in  his  life  he  had  set  out  to  save  a  brother's  soul  and  each 
time  he  had  cut  his  own  fingers  to  the  bone  instead.  Then 
Tempest  said: 

"  You  still  have  that  paper  of  Robison's  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  You  will  give  it  in  to  the  Commissioner  at  Regina  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

Dick  jerked  out  his  pouch  and  proceeded  to  refill  his 
pipe,  sitting  astride  a  chair.  His  manner  could  not  have 
been  more  brutally  indifferent,  and  yet  he  had  never  so 
deeply  longed  to  tell  Tempest  how  much  he  cared  for  him. 

"  Why  wouldn't  you  give  it  to  me  when  I  asked  you  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  intend  that  you  should  destroy  it." 

"  Ah !  "  It  was  a  quick  note  of  surprise.  "  You  thought 
I  meant  that  ?  " 

"What  else  should  I  think?"  Dick  twisted  the  chair, 
looking  with  resentful  eyes.  "  I  consider  you  acted  like 
it." 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  your  suspecting  that,"  said  Tem- 
pest with  sudden  haughtiness  .  "  You  might  naturally 


370  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

have  imagined  that  I  would  have  wanted  to  read  it  for 
myself,  and  when  you  refused  I  remembered  some  spe- 
cial reasons  why  you  should  not  have  been  the  man  to 
deny  me  that  right."  His  voice  changed  suddenly.  He 
sighed.  "  I  don't  believe  I  thought  much  after  that/'  he 
said.  "  If  I  had  I  hope  I'd  have  behaved  differently. 
What  illogical,  disreputably-minded  beings  we  are — all  of 
us.  And  yet  how  splendid  we  are — most  of  us." 

"  Ducane,  for  instance/'  said  Dick  bitterly. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  Robison.  And  you  believed  that  I 
wanted  to  destroy  that  paper?  The  thing  has  gone  far 
beyond  that — unless  I  could  at  the  same  time  destroy  the 
deed  and  the  conditions  that  made  for  it." 

A  twinge  of  mental  or  physical  pain  stopped  him.  Dick 
lit  his  pipe  with  hurried,  impatient  hands.  His  own  part 
in  this  affair  seemed  to  be  showing  less  nobly.  But  how 
could  he  have  known?  And  then,  with  sudden  force,  the 
explanation  hit  him.  A  man  naturally  judges  others  by 
himself. 

"  We  recognise  the  responsibility  of  the  criminal  fast 
enough,"  said  Tempest  slowly.  "  I  wonder  if  we  are 
always  so  sure  of  his  identity." 

"  She  did  it  long  before  I  had  any " 

"  Leave  the  personal  element  out,"  said  Tempest.  "  We 
can't  alter  that  by  discussing  it.  I  told  you  it  had  gone 
far  beyond  that.  But — because  the  representation  will  lie 
in  your  hands  now,  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  this.  We 
white  men  make  and  enforce  the  criminal  laws  of  a  coun- 
try. But  it  is  not  taken  sufficiently  into  consideration  that 
in  very  many  cases  we  also  make  the  conditions,  which, 
later  on,  call  for  the  enforcements  of  those  laws.  So  that 
the  punishment,  when  it  falls,  often  falls  on  the  wrong 
person." 

His  voice  was  so  quiet  that  Dick  could  not  guess  in 
how  far  his  heart  was  stirred. 

"  That's  an  old  story,"  he  said.     "  It's  the  same  all  the    • 
world  over.     We  can't  help  it.     We  are  only  sufficiently 
advanced  to  see  the  obvious  yet.     We  do  our  best — with 
the  limited  sense  we've  got." 

"  I  don't  think  we  do.  We  don't  take  into  considera- 
tion the  fact  that  the  civilisation  of  those  who  make  the 


"THE  LAW  IS  POWERLESS  THERE"    371 

laws  is  in  many  cases  about  a  thousand  years  older  than 
the  civilisation  of  those  whom  we  force  to  obey  them. 
When  we  spend  less  money  on  paying  men  to  tinker  with 
those  laws,  and  more  on  teaching  men  how  to  live  so  that 
they  won't  need  those  laws,  then  we  may  be  really  doing 
something  towards  the  development  of  the  individual.  But 
we  won't  study  economics  sufficiently  for  that.  We  make 
laws.  And  at  the  same  time  we  are  making  criminals." 

"  Punishment  for  crime  is  not  man's  idea.  You're  rating 
his  intellect  too  highly.  It's  one  of  the  natural  primary 
laws." 

"  Of  course.  The  moral  punishment.  I  was  speaking 
of  the  physical.  The  moral  punishment  falls  on  the  race — 
on  the  nation.  And  we  think  to  avoid  it  by  visiting  physi- 
cal punishment  on  the  few.  That  doesn't  alter  our  obliga- 
tions." 

"  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  I  fancy 
other  men  have  been  struck  with  the  same  notion.  But  I 
don't  observe  that  it's  affected  the  world  at  all." 

"  But  that  doesn't  alter  our  obligations.  We  white  men 
have  chosen  to  be  rulers  of  the  world.  Do  the  best  we 
can  we'll  have  a  mighty  reckoning  to  pay  for  that  pride. 
And  we'll  have  a  mighty  reward  for  that  service.  But 
until  we  recognise  our  brotherhood,  until  we  recognise  our 
individual  responsibility,  we  are  not  going  to  get  much 
virtue  out  of  our  inheritance." 

"  I  tell  you  we  do  what  we  can.  I  think  the  law  is  too 
ready  to  look  for  extenuating  circumstances." 

"  Do  you  think  it  will  find  any  extenuating  circum- 
stances in  Andree's  case  ?  " 

Dick  shut  his  teeth  with  a  snap  on  the  pipe-stem.  He 
did  not  look  at  the  other  man. 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  "  he  said  sullenly. 

"Do  you?" 

"  No." 

"  Nor  do  I.  And  yet  we  both  know  that  they  are  there, 
and  we  know  that  the  law  can't  recognise  them.  The  re- 
sponsibility lies  with  those  who  make  it  possible  for  a  girl 
to  grow  up  with  no  restraint,  no  moral  training,  no  tradi- 
tions. And  it  lies  with  those  white  men — those  rulers  of 
the  country — who  take  advantage  of  that.  We  know  that, 


872  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

too,  and  the  law  knows  it  But  the  law  is  powerless  there 
— and  so  are  we." 

"  J  thought  you  knew  human  nature  better  than  to  talk 
like  that.  We  can't  get  back  to  the  original  factor  in  an 
individual  case,  anyway.  He's  generally  dead." 

"  No,  he  isn't,"  said  Tempest  quietly.  "  He's  always 
living — plenty  of  him.  He's  you  and  me,  and  all  the 
other  men  who  help  to  rule  and  serve  Canada.  He  is 
every  man  who  hasn't  got  five  cents  to  spare  for  the  Mis- 
sionary box;  and  who  can't  be  bothered  to  subscribe  to 
the  Hospital  Fund,  and  who  makes  a  ring  on  the  Educa- 
tion Board  because  of  the  money  he  can  get  out  of  it. 
He  is  every  man  who  won't  put  sin  or  temptation  out 
of  another's  path  because  he's  afraid  of  dirtying  his  own 
hands.  He  is  every  man  who  takes  advantage  of  the  laws 
of  the  country  to  add  to  that  sin  and  temptation.  Oh,  he 
isn't  dead.  Don't  you  think  it.  He's  alive,  and  he's  going 
to  keep  on  living.  And  he  is  going  to  keep  on  governing 
the  world." 

Dick  was  on  his  feet  now.  He  walked  through  the 
room.  Then  he  came  back  and  stood  over  Tempest.  His 
face  was  black. 

"  Because  you're  a  Puritan  you  needn't  curse  all  other 
men,"  he  said.  "  I  imagine  we  are  as  God  made  us — if 
there  is  a  God." 

Tempest  flushed  painfully. 

"  I  don't  want  to  curse  other  men.  But — I  can  be  glad 
that  she  is  to  die  for  this.  It  was  life  that  I  was  afraid 
of  for  her." 

Dick  walked  back  to  the  window.  He  stood  there  some 
time.  Then  he  said: 

"  On  my  honour,  I  never  meant  to  make  her  love  me." 

"  What  happened  to  your  honour  when  you  gave  me 
your  word  that  you'd  leave  her  alone,  and  then  broke  it  ?  " 
said  Tempest  sternly. 

Dick  turned  round.  That  crumpled  body  with  the  clear, 
menacing  eyes  seemed  suddenly  terrible.  He  understood 
that  this  man  was  fighting  for  more  than  "  the  individual 
case." 

"  Oh,  you  can't  understand,"  he  said  impatiently.  "If 
you  could  you  wouldn't  need  to  ask.  You'd  know  for 


« THE  LAW  IS  POWERLESS  THERE  "    373 

yourself.  A  man  struggles — or  he  doesn't  struggle.  And 
it  all  comes  to  the  same  in  the  end  if  it's  built  that 
way." 

"  That  can't  be  true."  Tempest  lay  back,  staring  at 
the  wall.  "  Good  and  Evil  are  forces,"  he  said.  "  Whether 
we  generate  them  ourselves  and  let  them  loose  in  the  uni- 
verse, or  whether  they  are  in  the  universe  and  we  have 
power  to  annex  them,  doesn't  matter  much,  I  think.  We 
have  access  to  them,  anyway.  And  we  can  choose  which 
we  will  have  access  to  principally,  and  we  know  that  the 
more  we  have  to  do  with  the  one  the  less  we  can  have  to 
do  with  the  other.  That  seems  to  have  proved  itself. 
Those  forces  are  indestructible.  Huge  blind  gods,  perhaps. 
Purposeful  things  with  individual  power  to  attract  or  repel, 
perhaps.  We  don't  know  anything  about  all  that.  But 
we  do  know  that  we  can  draw  those  forces  into  ourselves 
and  transmute  them  by  the  alchemy  of  our  own  souls  into 
potent  things.  And  we  do  know  that,  whether  we  like  it 
or  not,  we  have  got  to  transmit  those  potent  things  to 
others.  It  may  be  possible  for  mankind  to  so  absorb  the 
Good  that  it  will  in  time  kill  all  sin  out  of  being,  as  inocu- 
lation destroys  disease.  That  is  another  thing  we  can  only 
guess  at.  It  is  certainly  possible  for  us  individually  to 
absorb  the  evil  so  far  that  we  seem  unable  to  retain  the 
good.  But  the  Good  must  be  meant  to  win  out  if  we  would 
only  help  it.  There  is  no  other  solution  for  the  making  of 
Life.  And  how  do  we  know  that  the  Good  is  not  seeking 
us  as  we  are  seeking  it?  A  new  Force,  like  electricity  or 
magnetism,  ready  to  enlighten  the  whole  universe  if  we 
would  only  give  it  a  chance.  We  grope  in  the  dark.  How 
do  we  know  that  we  haven't  got  the  match  in  our  hand, 
waiting  to  be  lit." 

His  face  was  glowing  and  his  eyes  deep  with  a  glory 
that  Dick  had  not  seen  even  in  Tempest  before.  Dick 
looked  at  him  in  envy. 

"  I  reckon  you  have  lit  your  match,"  he  said. 

"  No,  no.  Oh,  God  knows  I  haven't."  Tempest  put  up 
his  shaking  hands  to  his  face.  "  There  were  times  when  I 
could  have  killed  you,"  he  said. 

Dick  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  Thank  the  Lord  for  that,"  he  sa^d.     "  You've  some- 


374  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

times  scared  me  into  thinking  you  couldn't  be  human.  I 
was  afraid  you  only  wanted  to  kill  yourself." 

"  I  did  want  to."  Still  Tempest  spoke  with  his  face 
hidden.  "  I  knew  that  I  had  to  see  this  thing  in  a  larger 
way  or  I  probably  would."  He  broke  off,  sitting  silent; 
and  Dick  walked  through  the  room  with  his  lips  tight-shut. 
At  last  he  touched  Tempest  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Here's  }rour  medicine,"  he  said.  "  Let  me  hold  the 
glass.  What  do  you  expect  me  to  think  of  a  God  or  a 
Good  that  can  let  j  ou  suffer  this  way  while  I  go  free  ?  " 

Tempest  looked  up.  His  forehead  was  wet  near  the 
hair,  and  his  eyes  were  very  sad. 

"  Do  you  go  free  ?  "  he  asked. 

Dick  looked  away.  The  blind  battling  soul  in  him  de- 
sired intensely  to  cry  out  its  doubts  and  troubles  to  this 
man.  But  his  stubborn  heart  held  him  back.  Besides,  he 
told  himself  that  he  could  not  speak  of  Jennifer. 

"  I'd  give  my  own  strength  to  get  yours  back,"  he 
said. 

"  It  will  come  back."  Tempest  smiled  a  little.  "  I'm 
not  going  to  be  laid  on  the  shelf  yet.  And  I  owe  you 
more  than  you  owe  me." 

"  What  ?     Dick  looked  at  him  in  sudden  distrust. 

"  You  did  turn  me  back  into  the  trail  again.  And  I 
believe  that  you  began  to  do  it  honestly.  And  I  have  no 
right  to  judge  you.  I  have  failed  too  far  myself.  I  had 
thought  that  I  could  stand — and  it  needed  her  sorrow  as 
well  as  mine  to  show  me  the  only  way  in  which  I  could 
stand.  She  had  to  pay  so  that  I  should  learn,  you  see. 
I  have  got  to  do  something  with  that  learning." 

"  Tempest!  Do  you  love  her  still  as  a  man  loves  the 
woman  he  wants  for  his  wife?" 

Dick  blurted  the  question  out,  half-afraid,  half-desperate. 
With  that  paper  in  his  pocket  he  knew  that  he  must  know 
this. 

"  No,"  said  Tempest,  very  low.  "  Not  that  way  any 
more." 

He  did  not  explain  further.  But  Dick  guessed,  and  he 
did  not  guess  so  very  far  wrong.  Tempest  loved  Andree 
now  for  all  that  she  was  not.  For  all  that  an  unripe  and 
over-strenuous  civilisation  had  made  her.  For  all  her  kin 


"THE  LAW  IS  POWERLESS  THERE"    375 

who  would  sin  and  suffer  under  that  same  civilisation. 
For  all  that  ignorance  required  at  the  hands  of  knowledge 
— and  did  not  get. 

There  was  silence  again  in  the  room.  And  then  Hellier, 
Sergeant  in  charge  of  the  post,  came  in,  and  after  that  the 
wheels  of  life  took  up  their  ordinary  running  once  more. 
There  was  much  to  be  said  yet.  Much  that  never  would 
be  said.  Tempest  had  forgiven  Dick.  But  he  had  shown 
very  fully  how  much  there  was  to  forgive.  And  Dick, 
although  feeling  painfully  that  he  should  be  grateful,  set 
out  on  the  winter  trail  with  no  light  heart. 

On  the  third  night  out  they  camped  on  the  edge  of  the 
heavy  timber,  and  the  morning  gave  a  cold  world  of  wind 
and  storm  and  a  drifted  trail  that  demanded  constant 
breaking.  Each  man  but  Ducane  took  his  turn  at  .that  and 
his  turn  at  holding  the  blinded,  struggling  dogs  into  it 
when  it  was  broken;  and  each  man  but  Ducane  laboured 
to  put  the  tent  up  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind  that  night,  and 
to  make  a  fire  with  the  little  green  twigs  torn  off  the  bowed 
spruces.  But  it  was  Ducane  who  refused  to  turn  out  of 
his  blankets  on  the  following  morning.  He  complained  of 
that  cramp  which  had  caught  him  by  Beverley  Lake,  and 
Dick,  who  had  expected  this,  found  a  sinful  delight  in 
administering  some  medicine  which  kept  Ducane  passably 
civil  for  two  full  days. 

The  three  men  of  the  Outer  Places  were  wolf-thewed  and 
tireless.  They  could  break  trail  for  a  half-day  and  feel  no 
after  pains.  They  would  curl  up  in  their  wet  furs  and 
sleep,  and  wake  cheerfully  to  another  day  of  labour.  But 
Ducane  had  never  belonged  to  the  Outer  Places,  and  in 
a  very  little  while  he  began  to  drive  Dick  desperate  with 
his  complaints.  Dick  cured  his  toothache  by  threatening  to 
abstract  the  tooth,  and  he  heard  no  more  of  Ducane's  weak 
ankle  after  the  night  on  which  he  urged  the  teams  for- 
ward, leaving  Ducane  to  limp  sulkily  into  camp  when  sup- 
per was  done.  But  through  the  cold  and  heavy  fortnight 
of  travel  which  landed  them  at  Split  Lake  Ducane  made 
life  for  those  about  him  an  infinitely  more  wearisome  thing 
than  it  had  any  need  to  be. 

It  was  on  the  trail  to  Norway  House  where  the  police 
flag  flew  at  the  head  of  Lake  Winnipeg  that  Ducane  asked 


876  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

the  question  which  Dick  had  been  expecting  since  they 
first  met. 

"  Where  is  Jenny  ?  "  he  asked ;  and  Dick  stopped  his 
walk  and  looked  at  him. 

"  With  her  mother  in  Toronto.  You  expect  her  to  come 
and  bail  you  out,  of  course  ?  " 

"  What  business  is  that  of  yours  ? "  snarled  Ducane. 
Then  he  looked  at  the  other  man  in  sharp  suspicion. 
"  What  business  is  it  of  yours  what  my  wife  does  or 
doesn't  do  ?  "  he  said  again.  He  thrust  his  watery  eyes 
and  ragged  beard  close  to  Dick.  "  Do  you  love  her  ?  " 
he  snapped  suddenly. 

"  Wrhat  business  is  that  of  yours  ? "  countered  Dick 
lazily. 

"  Why — I  guess  it  is  my  business,  too.     I " 

"  No,  it  is  not."  Dick  turned  on  his  heel.  "  The  next 
time  you  poke  your  nose  into  my  private  affairs  you'll 
likely  get  hurt,  Mr.  Ducane,"  he  said;  and  left  the  other 
man  puzzled  and  staring. 


CHAPTER    XVII 
"  BUT  THAT  CAN'T  BE  " 

"  COME  in,"  said  the  Commissioner. 

Dick  halted  yet  another  moment  before  he  followed  his 
knock  into  the  office.  These  three  days  in  the  Regina 
Headquarters  of  the  Royal  North-West  Mounted  Police 
had  brought  him  back  to  the  trim  alertness  required  of 
every  man  who  wears  the  buffalo-badge,  and  his  mind  was 
fully  as  alert  as  his  body.  But  it  was  much  less  brushed 
and  buttoned  into  shape,  and  his  eyes  were  anxious  as  he 
crossed  over  the  threshold,  saluted,  and  stood  up,  rigid 
and  expressionless,  before  the  Commissioner. 

The  Commissioner  was  sitting  sideways  at  his  table  with 
his  keen  face  more  grave  than  was  usual.  Many  things 
and  many  men  pas?ed  under  his  hands,  and  his  work  was 
often  weighty  on  him.  But  he  loved  it,  and  he  took  a 
pride  in  his  men,  although  he  seldom  told  them  so.  He 
had  known  Dick  in  the  days  when  Dick  was  rough-rider 
here,  and  he  had  seen  him  many  times  since  when  he  sent 
the  man  out  on  his  lone  patrols  and  welcomed  him  when 
he  came  back  to  report.  He  turned  to  him  now  with  the 
steady  eyes  that  had  learnt  how  to  judge  men  while  the 
man  himself  was  learning  how  to  trust  them,  neither  for- 
getting nor  ignoring  conditions  of  upbringing  or  birth. 

"  You  are  looking  better  than  when  you  came  in,"  he 
said.  "Are  you  feeling  as  fit  as  you  look?" 

"  Quite,  thank  you,  sir." 

'  Ready  for  another  lone  patrol  ?  " 

A  change  flickered  over  the  composed  face  before  him. 
It  was  gone  instantly;  even  before  Dick  said  his  respect- 
ful "  Yes,  sir."  But  the  Commissioner  had  seen  it,  and 
again  he  wished,  as  he  had  so  often  wished  before,  that 
it  was  not  incumbent  on  him  to  treat  these  fiery  pieces  of 
flesh  and  blood  and  spirit  so  like  machines. 

"  You  have  had  seven  months  of  severe  work,"  he  said. 

377 


378  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  I  should  not  send  you  out  again  just  now  if  I  did  not 
believe  that  you  were  the  most  suitable  man  I  can  spare 
at  present." 

"  I  am  ready  to  go,  sir/'  said  Dick. 

He  had  regained  his  outward  balance,  but  his  mind  was 
whirling.  Ducane — he  was  one  of  the  principal  witnesses 
in  Ducane's  case.  He  had  got  the  information  together. 
He  knew  more  of  the  connecting  links  than  anyone  else. 
If  he  were  sent  away  again,  for  months,  perhaps  for  a 
year,  what  was  going  to  happen  to  that  case?  The  Com- 
missioner was  watching  him. 

"  What  is  it,  Heriot  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  was  thinking  about  that  case  of  Ducane's,  sir.  I 
worked  it  up — so  far  as  it  went." 

"  Ah !  Ducane.  Yes,  of  course.  He's  in  cells  here, 
is  he  not?  Yes.  I  have  all  the  information  on  that  case 
tabulated  here.  Sergeant  Jones  sent  it  down  from  Grey 
Wolf,  and  of  course  it  has  been  in  abeyance  until  we  got 
the  man.  Did  this  Ducane  tell  you  that  he  desired  to  turn 
King's  evidence  ?  " 

"  He  said  so.  But  I  didn't  believe "  Dick  stopped 

in  disgust. 

"  Well,  it  is  a  fact.  I  saw  him  the  morning  after  you 
brought  him  in,  and  he  gave  me  the  names  of  this  com- 
pany. I  am  operating  now  on  the  basis  of  what  I  got  from 
him,  and  I  fancy  we  can  manage  without  you,  Heriot. 
You  are  wanted  for  more  important  work."  The  Com- 
missioner smiled.  "  This  man  will  be  no  trouble,"  he  said. 
"  He  is  eager  to  tell  everything  in  order  to  lighten  his 
sentence.  He  will  lighten  it,  of  course.  In  fact,  after  the 
case  comes  up  in  court  he  will  probably  be  let  out  on  bail 
pending  the  arrest  of  the  other  men.  There  is  a  bigger 
thing  behind  this  than  the  petty  rogueries  of  Ducane,  and 
I  can  assure  you  that  your  thorough  work  in  the  matter 
will  not  go  unappreciated." 

The  Commissioner  smiled  again,  but  Dick's  face  was  a 
blank.  A  cold  horror  had  shut  down  over  him.  Ducane 
out  on  bail;  penniless;  practically  a  moral  and  physical 
wreck,  and  Jennifer  with  no  one  to  guard  her,  no  one  to 
help  her  against  him.  He  had  not  forgotten  Jennifer's 
steady  words  that  night  in  the  Edmonton  hotel. 


"BUT   THAT   CAN'T   BE"  379 

"If  he  needs  my  help  I  shall  always  give  it;  "  and  he 
knew  that  she  meant  what  she  said.  Through  this  long 
journey  he  had  taken  comfort  in  the  thought  that  at  least 
he  was  insuring  her  safety  from  Ducane.  Now,  seeing 
what  he  had  done,  and  seeing  himself  helpless,  he  had  no 
words  to  say. 

"  On  the  day  you  came  in  I  wired  Grey  Wolf  Barracks 
for  the  arrest  of  the  girl  called  Grange's  Andree,"  said 
the  Commissioner,  turning  over  the  papers  on  his  desk, 
Sergeant  Jones'  reply  came  in  an  hour  ago." 

He  paused,  and  Dick  answered  with  his  mechanical, 
"  Yes,  sir."  He  had  neither  thought  nor  care  to  spare  for 
Andree  at  this  moment. 

"  Sergeant  Jones  says  that  full  inquiries  have  been  made 
concerning  the  girl,"  went  on  the  Commissioner,  picking 
up  a  telegraph-form.  "  She  is  not  in  Grey  Wolf.  It 
has  been  ascertained  that  she  went  North,  probably  on 
the  Peace,  with  two  nuns  who  were  going  in  to  Fort 
Vermilion  just  before  the  rivers  shut  down." 

"  Went  North !  Andree !  "  Dick  was  startled  into  sud- 
den attention.  "  She  must  have  had  word  of  this,"  he 
said. 

"  Ah !  "  The  Commissioner  leaned  forward.  "  Why 
should  you  think  that  ?  " 

"  Why — she  has  always  had  a  superstition  against  the 
North.  She  used  to  say  that  she  would  never  come  back 
if  she  once  went  down  there " 

"  You  know  her,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Ah!  How  do  you  suggest  that  she  might  have  been 
warned  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Yes,  I  do.  Ducane  likely  talked  about 
the  matter  to  someone  and  word  got  round  to  her.  There 
has  been  plenty  of  time.  It  is  over  a  year  since  he  had 
the  paper." 

"  I  see.  Then  you  think  that  she  has  gone  North  in 
order  to  escape  ?  " 

"  Very  probably,"  said  Dick. 

"  I  see."  The  Commissioner  sat  back  in  his  chair, 
frowning  at  the  wall. 

"  This  complicates  the  affair,"  he  said.     "  She  has  ha3 


380  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

six  weeks  or  two  months'  start.  But  it  makes  me  all  the 
more  certain  of  the  wisdom  of  my  original  decision.  I 
have  detailed  you  to  bring  the  girl  in,  Heriot.  It  is  a 
cold  time  of  year  for  travel,  but  you  are  acclimated  to 
that." 

"  You  want  me — to  go  after  Andree  ?  " 

Dick  spoke  low  and  dazedly.  The  thought  seemed 
strangely  horrible  and  unreal. 

"  And  as  soon  as  possible."  The  Commissioner's  voice 
sharpened.  "  We  hanged  Robison,"  he  said.  "  We  have 
hanged  an  innocent  man.  That  is  a  stain  which,  to  my 
knowledge,  has  not  been  on  our  name  before,  and  I  would 
give  a  very  great  deal  if  it  could  be  wiped  out.  Unfortu- 
nately that  is  impossible;  but  it  is  all  the  more  our  duty 
to  bring  the  real  criminal  to  justice  without  loss  of  time. 
You  have  a  genius  for  marking  down  your  men,  and  I 
don't  think  I  could  do  better  than  send  you  after  her." 

Dick  did  not  speak.  The  Commissioner  turned  back 
to  the  table. 

"  You  can  get  a  dog-train  outfit  in  Grey  Wolf,  of  course," 
he  said.  "  Don't  delay  at  any  point  on  account  of  funds. 
The  honour  of  the  whole  Force  is  more  or  less  tarnished 
until  we  get  her.  For  if  she  knows  of  it  we  may  be  sure 
that  she  is  not  the  only  one.  You  will  leave  here  in  the 
morning.  Come  to  me  after  stables,  and  I  will  give  you 
your  letter  of  instructions." 

Dick  was  dismissed,  but  still  he  did  not  move.  The 
Commissioner  looked  at  him  again,  and  then  for  a  mo- 
ment he  trod  over  the  barrier  of  discipline. 

"  This  patrol  doesn't  please  you,"  he  said.  "  I  am 
sorry,  for  I  have  always  looked  on  you  as  one  of  our 
keenest  men.  What  is  your  ob j  ection  ?  " 

"  I  knew  her — rather  well,"  said  Dick  slowly.  "  I  had 
sooner  it  had  been  another  man  to  take  her,  sir." 

The  Commissioner  looked  away  again.  There  was  evi- 
dently much  more  here  than  he  knew.  But  he  had  no 
right  to  probe  too  far  into  the  inner  lives  of  these  men 
whom  he  ruled. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  said.  "  But  it  is  not  necessary  for 
me  to  tell  you  that  in  such  work  as  we  have  to  do  private 
feelings  must  be  ignored.  The  fact  is,  I  trust  you  to 


"BUT   THAT   CAN'T   BE"  381 

make  good  time  over  this,  Heriot.  There  is  a  good  deal 
at  stake.  And  in  sending  you  I  believe  that  I  am  sending 
the  best  man  I  have.  You  hold  a  good  reputation  for 
that  kind  of  work,  you  know.  That  is  all.  Come  and  see 
me  in  the  morning.  You  will  be  driven  into  Regina  to 
catch  the  mid-day  train  West." 

Dick  went  out.  He  turned  along  the  familiar  side-walk 
and  across  the  barrack-square.  But  he  did  not  know  where 
he  went,  nor  why.  Like  a  burning-glass  his  mind  was  fo- 
cussed  suddenly  on  one  point.  He  would  not  go  after  An- 
dree.  He  would  not,  and  he  could  not.  He  would  go  East; 
East  to  Jennifer.  He  would  desert  and  go  to  Jennifer, 
and  he  would  make  her  give  him  the  comfort  he  would  need 
when  the  shame  of  what  he  had  done  became  known.  He 
would  take  Jennifer,  because  Ducane  must  not  take  her, 
and  he  would  take  with  her  the  searing  disgrace  and  the 
need  for  the  avoidance  of  his  kind  which  must  follow  his 
desertion.  He  loved  his  work.  It  was  the  only  thing 
which  held  honour  alive  in  him.  But  he  loved  Jennifer. 

"  And  by ,  I'll  keep  him  away  from  her,"  he  said, 

half-aloud. 

"  What's  that  ? "  A  Colour-Sergeant  thrust  his  arm 
through  Dick's  and  walked  on  with  him.  "  Glad  to  see 
you  again,  Heriot.  A  kid  we  had  here — Warriner — was 
always  talking  about  you  and  the  other  Grey  Wolf  folk. 
By  the  bye,  queer  thing  that  Mrs.  Ducane  should  go  back 
there,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  She's  in  Toronto " 

"  Not  she.  Grey  Wolf,  my  boy.  Grey  Wolf.  Been 
there  the  last  six  months.  She " 

Dick  ceased  to  hear.  He  was  suddenly  very  angry  with 
Jennifer.  What  had  induced  her  to  go  up  there  again? 
She  must  have  known  that  it  would  be  much  more  difficult 
for  him  to  take  her  away  from  there;  much  more  difficult 
for  him  to  escape  from  there.  How  the  devil  was  he  to 

He  stopped  impatiently,  knocking  the  snow  off  his  high 
fur  over-boots.  He  had  forgotten  that  Jennifer  knew 
nothing  of  this  determination  of  his. 

"  Is  she  alone  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

"Who?  Oh,  Mrs.  Ducane?  No;  she  has  her  mother 
with  her,  I  believe.  I  fancy  that  if  Ducane " 


382  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

The  stream  of  talk  went  on,  leaving  Dick  still  more 
angry.  Her  mother !  What  in  the  name  of  sense  had  pos- 
sessed Jennifer  to  saddle  herself  with  her  mother?  What 
was  he  going  to  do  with  her  mother?  And  how  was  he 
going  to  persuade  her,  even  though  he  persuaded  Jenni- 
fer? Even  though?  Sudden  dread  of  the  doubt  which 
those  words  implied  chilled  him.  He  forgot  the  difficul- 
ties; he  forgot  the  sacrifice;  he  forgot  his  anger.  He  re- 
membered only  that  he  wanted  her — wanted  her;  that  she 
was  the  one  sw^et  and  sacred  thing  to  him — the  one  salve 
to  all  the  aches  and  bruises  that  life  had  given  him. 

He  went  back  to  his  corner  of  the  bunk-room  which  he 
shared  with  four  other  men,  and  sat  on  his  bunk  with  his 
head  in  his  hands. 

"  I've  got  to  think  this  out — I've  got  to  think  this  out/' 
he  said,  over  and  over.  But  his  will  would  not  hold  any 
one  point  true.  Again  and  again  it  swung  him  up  into  the 
wind,  and  he  shivered,  helpless  as  a  ship  in  irons. 

Tempest  and  Andree:  Jennifer  and  Ducane:  his  own 
good  name  and  the  way  men  spoke  of  it  from  Herschel 
across  to  Fullerton  and  south  into  Regina  itself.  It  was 
not  his  private  name  that  he  cared  about.  That  had  been 
blurred  long  years  ago.  But  he  was  jealous  for  his  work. 
His  work.  The  one  thing  which  he  had  never  betrayed  or 
belittled  or  neglected.  The  one  thing  which  he  had  served 
purely,  according  to  his  lights.  He  had  dreaded  always 
that  life  and  passion  might  call  on  him  to  cash  in  his  brain 
also  at  the  bank  of  his  heart,  and  he  knew  that  if  ever  that 
day  came  it  would  leave  him  naked  of  something  which  he 
never  would  have  any  more.  His  work  was  the  one  firm 
thing  which  he  had  clung  to,  and  he  knew,  with  a  terrible 
clearness  of  vision,  that  even  with  Jennifer's  arms  about 
him,  his  soul  would  be  sick  for  that  world  still,  and  for  the 
pride  which  he  had  lost. 

He  stood  up  at  last;  changed  his  boots,  thrust  his 
cheque-book  into  his  inner  pocket,  and  went  down  to  ask 
the  O.C.  for  leave.  He  banked  in  Regina,  and  it  was  wise 
for  a  deserter  to  draw  all  his  money  out  betimes,  for,  as  he 
knew  well,  a  cheque  is  often  one  of  those  little  threads  by 
which  a  man  ties  himself  to  that  which  he  would  escape. 

And  the  next  morning,  across  the  snow-bound  prairies, 


"BUT    THAT    CAN'T    BE" 

sat  in  the  train  that  rocktd  west,  ever  west,  and  fitted  into 
shape  with  grim  precision  every  move  in  this  game  whicli 
he  meant  to  play. 

It  must  be  played  quickly.  He  could  not  go  to  Grey 
Wolf  and  not  go  to  the  barracks.  That  would  raise  sus- 
picion too  soon.  And  he  could  not  go  to  the  barracks  with- 
out reporting  to  Sergeant  Jones,  who  knew  already  that  he 
had  been  detailed  for  the  patrol  and  who  would  already  be 
getting  the  outfit  together.  Therefore,  at  whatever  hour 
of  the  day  or  the  night  he  took  Jennifer  away  with  him,  it 
would  not  be  long  before  he  was  looked  for.  He  could 
hoodwink  them  in  several  ways,  and  he  thought  those  ways 
out,  hour  by  hour,  sitting  in  the  position  which  Tempest 
knew  so  well,  with  one  knee  over  the  other,  and  his  chin 
shut  into  his  hand.  But  for  all  the  start  he  might  get  it 
would  be  little  enough  in  that  country  where  the  few  win- 
ter trails  are  known  as  a  man  knows  the  number  of  his  fin- 
gers. Again  he  felt  irritation  at  Jennifer  because  she  had 
gone  back  to  Grey  Wolf. 

"  She  might  have  known  I  would  come  to  her,"  he  said. 
"  She  might  have  known." 

He  felt  strangely  fretful  and  angry  about  something. 
He  was  going  to  give  what  to  him  would  be  the  greatest 
sacrifice  of  his  life,  even  though  he  gained  what  he  most 
desired  by  it.  But  he  could  feel  no  exaltation ;  no  calm 
determination.  A  child  playing  up  and  down  the  corridor 
offered  him  some  candy. 

"  Those  are  kisses,"  she  said,  with  her  red  lips  upturned. 
But  he  pushed  her  aside  with  his  knee. 

"  I  don't  want  any,"  he  said  sharply,  and  she  ran  back 
to  her  mother,  half-frightened. 

Then  his  mind  began  to  run  on  the  fear  of  what  Jenni- 
fer would  say.  She  would  not  refuse  again.  He  had  got 
to  break  down  her  resistance  this  time.  He  had  got  to  do 
it.  He  felt  maddened  at  the  very  thought  of  going  North 
and  leaving  her  where  Ducane  could  trouble  her. 

"  She  has  got  to  give  in,"  he  told  himself.  "  She  has 
got  to  give  in." 

And  then  he  sat  still,  and  thought  of  all  the  things  which 
he  would  say  to  her. 

He  had  a  month  in  which  to  mature  those  plans  and  ar- 


384-  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

guments.  A  month  of  sleigh-driving  behind  the  ringing 
horse-bells;  of  impatient  waiting  at  side- way  houses  for  a 
team;  of  cold  beds  and  discomfort  and  the  magic  of  the 
North  pulling  at  his  heart-strings  and  the  shame  of  his  pur- 
pose heavy  on  his  soul.  He  faced  that  knowledge,  looking 
out  into  the  white  world  with  sullen  eyes  and  bitten  lips. 
Again  Life  was  making  a  jest  of  him.  But  this  time  he 
could  not  fling  the  jest  back.  The  barb  had  gone  too  deep. 
His  pride  was  touched,  and  he  could  not  contemplate  the 
loss  of  that  even  in  his  secret  heart  and  hold  his  head 
up. 

He  looked  worn  and  thin  and  sulky  when  he  knocked 
the  snow  of  Grey  Wolf  off  his  over-boots  on  the  familiar 
step  and  went  into  the  barracks  to  report  to  Sergeant 
Jones.  And  the  sight  of  the  florid,  fleshy  little  man  in  the 
chair  which  had  once  been  Tempest's  did  not  ease  his 
spirit.  Sergeant  Jones  had  many  things  to  say,  and  the 
short  winter  twilight  had  already  shut  down  when  Dick  es- 
caped and  went  through  the  kitchen  to  find  Poley.  His 
impatience  to  see  Jennifer  was  over-riding  most  things 
now;  but  the  human  part  of  him  had  to  obey  the  calls  of 
cold  and  hunger.  And  something  of  the  keen  edge  of  his 
temper  softened  at  the  old  man's  welcome,  and  at  the  hot 
food,  and  the  warmth,  and  at  Kennedy  bursting  in,  rosy- 
faced  and  incoherent  with  delight. 

The  boy  looked  older,  with  little  lines  showing  already 
about  the  corners  of  his  eyes.  His  manner  was  more  as- 
sured, and  Dick  looked  on  that  piece  of  his  work  with 
pleasure.  He  was  going  out  of  it  all,  and  Kennedy  was 
exactly  the  kind  of  fellow  to  curse  him  with  tears  in  his 
eyes  and  the  bitterest  profanity  he  knew.  But  he  would 
not  be  able  to  forget  that  Dick  had  made  him.  The  mess- 
room  was  dearly  familiar,  with  the  smells  of  old  from  the 
kitchen  and  the  mat  before  the  stove  where  Dick's  pipe 
had  burnt  a  hole.  And  Poley  was  dearly  familiar,  with  his 
red  rough  beard  where  the  grey  hairs  showed  and  his  wa- 
tery blue  eyes  either  side  the  bloated  nose.  The  man  who 
had  taken  Dick's  place  was  away,  and  Dick  was  thankful. 
For  one  little  hour  he  lived  here  again  in  his  own  right. 
Then  he  stood  up. 

"  I  think  I'll  go  round  and  see  if  Grey  Wolf  has  got  all 


"BUT    THAT    CAN'T   BE"  385 

its  corners  yet/'  he  said.  "  Don't  wait  up  for  me,  Ken- 
nedy. I  can  find  my  way  into  my  bunk,  I  fancy." 

Kennedy  had  talked  of  everything  he  knew ;  including  the 
disappearance  of  Grange's  Andree,  and  the  rumour  (it  was 
no  more  than  a  rumour)  which  had  slid  through  Grey  Wolf 
whispering  that  she  was  wanted. 

"  Don't  speak  of  Andree  to  Grange/'  he  said.  "  He's 
awfully  cut  up  about  it.  You  wouldn't  think  the  little  fel- 
low'd  a-had  so  much  heart.  He's  blocked  Moosta  showing 
these  pictures  of  yours  around  to  folks  since  she  left." 

Dick  had  forgotten  those  pictures.  He  remembered 
them  now  with  a  swift  pang.  Then  he  nodded  acquies- 
cence, and  went  out. 

But  he  did  not  turn  down  the  well-known  flapping  side- 
walk to  Grange's.  He  went  across  to  the  frozen  lake 
where  the  snow  lay  levelly  hard  and  white  under  the  new- 
come  dark.  Far  over  the  glimmering  stretch  shone  the 
lights  of  Jennifer's  home,  and  Dick  turned  his  face  to- 
wards them  and  walked  forward  quickly. 

In  the  early  days  of  her  married  life  Jennifer  had  left 
the  house-blinds  up  at  night  that  'the  lights  of  his  home 
might  greet  Ducane  the  moment  he  turned  his  eyes  towards 
them  from  far  off.  Later  she  had  drawn  them  that  she 
might  not  see  the  gleam  from  the  police  barracks  shoot  out 
into  the  gloom.  Now  that  neither  Ducane  nor  barracks 
mattered  any  more  she  left  them  up,  because  she  loved  to 
see  the  white  stars  and  the  dance  of  the  northern  lights 
when  the  lamps  were  low,  and  to  watch  for  the  occasional 
beat  of,  a  night-bird's  wings  on  the  pane. 

This  night  there  were  no  northern  lights,  and  the  stars 
were  shrouded.  But  the  blinds  were  up  still,  though  the 
lamps  were  high,  and  Jennifer  sat  in  the  softened  glow  of 
them,  sewing  on  some  white  work.  A  half-made  pinafore 
intended  for  one  of  Miss  Chubb 's  children  at  the  English 
Mission  School  lay  on  the  floor  beside  her,  and  a  black 
kitten  had  rolled  itself  up  in  it.  Jennifer  stooped  to  roll 
it  out  again,  and  heard  across  the  room  a  sound  like  the 
flutter  of  a  bird's  wings  on  the  glass.  She  looked  round. 
And  then  she  sprang  to  her  feet;  dropping  her  work,  and 
shutting  her  hands  over  her  leaping  heart. 

In  the  sudden  terror  of  her  face  and  her  wide-stretched 


886  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

eyes  Dick  knew  what  he  had  done.  Of  course  she  did  not 
know  that  he  was  within  a  thousand  miles;  two  thousand; 
five.  She  would  think  that  his  spirit  had  come  to  tell  her 
of  his  death.  She  would  think 

"  Good  Lord/'  he  said.  "  I've  frightened  the  life  out  of 
her,"  and  he  ran  hastily  to  the  door  into  the  side-hall. 

Then  he  remembered  that  his  disappearance  would  put 
more  truth  to  her  fear,  and  he  cursed  himself  for  a  clumsy 
fool  as  he  wrenched  the  door  open;  shed  his  heavy  furs 
and  cap  in  one  movement,  and  thrust  open  the  sitting-room 
door.  Jennifer  heard  his  feet,  and  she  turned.  She  saw 
him  at  the  door,  but  she  could  not  believe.  His  face  was 
so  thin  and  his  dark  eyes  looked  so  far  back  under  those 
heavy  brows. 

"  Jennifer !  "  he  said ;  and  with  a  queer,  choked  cry,  she 
put  out  her  hands  to  him,  tottering  where  she  stood. 

Then  she  felt  herself  swept  up  in  his  arms,  and  his 
kisses  on  her;  warm,  strong,  quick  kisses  over  her  lips  and 
her  eyes  and  her  hair.  She  clung  to  him  blindly,  passion- 
ately ;  sobbing  in  little  gasps,  and  incapable  of  any  but  the 
one  thought  that  he  had  come  back  to  her.  He  had  come 
back,  and  all  the  terrible  blanks  of  her  life  were  filled  by 
the  touch  of  his  lips  and  his  arms. 

He  held  her  close,  speaking  with  tender,  broken  words 
such  as  no  one  had  ever  heard  on  his  tongue  before.  To 
the  end  of  her  life  she  remembered  the  smell  of  the  wood- 
smoke  in  his  clothes ;  the  roughness  of  his  coat-collar  where 
her  tears  wetted  it;  the  shaking  gentleness  of  his  voice. 
He  carried  her  over  to  the  lounge  by  the  open  fire,  and  put 
her  on  it;  sitting  beside  her  with  his  arms  round  her  yet, 
and  his  hand  stroking  her  hair. 

"  I  told  you  it  had  to  come  to  this,"  he  said  unsteadily. 
"  Darling — my  darling — don't  shiver  so.  It's  all  right, 
dear.  It's  all  right  now." 

"  I  thought  you  were  dead,"  she  sobbed.  "  When  I  saw 
— I  thought  you  were  dead." 

"  I  know.  I  know.  Stupid  brute  that  I  was  to  frighten 
you  so.  You  know  better  now,  sweetheart,  don't  you?  Are 
these  the  kisses  of  a  dead  man?" 

He  was  controlling  himself  with  difficulty.  Ducane  was 
forgotten;  his  own  black,  fierce  fight  with  himself  was  for- 


"BUT   THAT   CAN'T   BE"  387 

gotten.  Nothing  mattered  but  the  sweetness  of  her  lipg 
on  his  own  and  that  vague  fragrance  that  clung  about  her 
hair  and  dress.  It  intoxicated  him.  He  held  her  off;  look- 
ing at  her  out  of  shining  eyes,  and  laughing  with  pure 
pagan  joy. 

"Are  you  alive?"  he  said.  "You  little  wild-haired 
thing!  You  want  a  garland  of  acorns  and  oak-leaves  on 
that  head  of  yours,  and  all  the  green  grass  under  a  fairy- 
forest  to  dance  on." 

The  glowing  exultance  of  him  seemed  to  fill  the  room 
up.  Her  veins  tingled  with  his  vitality.  He  put  an  elec- 
tric spark  into  the  air  which  lighted  her  own  heart  to  a 
flame. 

"  I  wanted  you,"  she  cried.  "  Dick,  I  wanted  you !  I 
wanted  you ! " 

"  I  know  you  did.  And  I  wanted  you.  And  I've  come 
to  you.  Good  Lord,  we  thought  we  could  do  without  each 
other,  did  we?  What  fools  we  were,  my  little  girl.  What 
fools !  Ah !  We're  wiser  now.  Kiss  me,  sweetheart.  Jen- 
nifer, if  the  skies  fall,  we'll  have  the  hour.  We'll  have  the 
hour,  by  God,  whatever  comes." 

His  vehemence  began  to  frighten  her.  She  shrank  a  lit- 
tle in  the  strong  grasp  of  his  arms. 

"  I  can't  think,"  she  said  breathlessly.  "  When  you  look 
and  talk  like  that  I  can't  think." 

"  Who  wants  you  to  think?  Leave  that  for  another  day. 
Laugh,  Jennifer.  Don't  look  at  me  with  your  dear  mouth 
quivering  so.  Laugh,  sweetheart,  for  we  have  found  each 
other  at  last." 

For  the  moment  she  believed  it.  He  was  so  glad,  so 
gloriously  sure.  She  smiled  faintly,  uncertainly,  looking 
up  at  him  with  wet,  hungry  eyes.  She  noted  the  dark 
bruise  which  Ducane  had  made  on  his  cheek-bone,  and  the 
rumpled  hair,  and  the  deep  wind-burn  tan  of  his  skin.  She 
put  her  fingers  up  softly  to  the  bruise. 

"Does  that  hurt?"  she  whispered. 

He  laughed  again,  remembering  whose  hand  had  given  it. 

"  Not  now,  my  darling.  No.  Nothing  can  hurt  me  now, 
I  think.  I'm  going  to  wear  you  for  an  amulet  in  future, 
little  girl.  Do  you  hear  that?  You're  coming  away  with 
me,  Jennifer.  Where  shall  we  go,  honey?  We've  all  the 


388  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

world  before  us.  Australia,  with  a  sheep-run  of  our  own? 
Or  South  Africa,  with  little  nigger-boys  to  dig  us  dia- 
monds? Or  I  know  a  place  down  at  the  bottom  of  Ma- 
lay  "  He  was  laughing  still ;  stooping  his  ruddy,  wind- 
whipped  fact  to  hers.  "  Anywhere,  sweetheart.  Any- 
where at  alL  We've  got  the  whole  world  to  choose  from, 
and  there's  always  room  for  another  rover  on  the  Out 
Trail." 

By  the  force  of  him  he  was  sweeping  her  out  into  the 
atmosphere  where  his  wild  soul  lived  and  drew  deep 
breaths.  But  the  air  there  was  too  strong  for  Jennifer. 
She  felt  suffocated;  giddy;  afraid.  She  pressed  his  face 
back  with  both  hands,  and  he  kissed  the  palms  where  they 
lay  across  his  lips. 

"  Oh,  don't,"  she  gasped.     "  You  frighten  me." 

"  Poor  little  white  bird.  My  darling,  you're  shaking  all 
over.  It  was  that  cursed  foolishness  of  mine  at  the  win- 
dow. See,  then,  is  this  going  to  bring  the  colour  back?  " 

He  kissed  her  eyelids  and  her  forehead  and  her  white 
cheeks ;  tenderly,  remorsefully,  and,  like  a  weary  baby,  she 
let  him  do  it.  The  storm  of  his  passion  seemed  to  have 
torn  her  strength  up  by  the  roots.  She  had  nothing  left  to 
fight  him  with.  She  was  scarcely  conscious  that  there  was 
need  for  fight.  But  dimly  she  felt  that  something  wonder- 
ful and  precious  had  come  to  her  and  that  it  could  not 
stay. 

"  If  one  could  only  die,"  she  whispered.  "  When  one 
was  perfectly  happy,  if  one  could  only  die." 

His  face  changed  and  darkened.  He,  too,  had  forgotten 
the  realities  until  her  words  brought  them  round  him  with 
thronging  feet. 

"  Better  to  live  and  keep  on  being  perfectly  happy,  you 
little  silly  thing,"  he  said. 

"  But  that  can't  be,"  she  said,  like  one  repeating  a  les- 
son. "  That  can't  be." 

Then  he  felt  her  move  as  though  to  push  him  away,  and 
he  held  her  more  closely,  foreseeing  the  battle  that  was 
coming.  His  strongly-masculine  mind  saw  no  use  in  it. 
There  could  be  but  the  one  end  now.  But  he  knew  that  the 
woman  would  have  to  go  round  about  to  it,  and  he  waited, 
with  his  mouth  a  little  set  and  a  queer  smile  in  his  eyes. 


"BUT    THAT    CAN'T   BE"  389 

"  Let  me  go,"  she  said.  "  Let  me  go.  Oh,  what  have 
you  made  me  do?  " 

"  Something  that  neither  of  us  will  ever  forget,"  he  said 
unsteadily.  "  I  think  I  will  remember  the  touch  of  your 
dear  lips  on  mine  when  I  am  in  my  grave." 

"  Oh,  how  could  I  forget !  "  She  spoke  in  a  rush  of  ter- 
ror, with  the  blood  burning  her  face.  "  I  only  thought — 

of  you " 

"  You  have  only  to  think  of  me  now  till  the  end  of  time, 
Jennifer." 

"  No !  No !  You  know  that  is  not  true.  Oh,  let  me 
go !  Let  me  go !  " 

She  burst  into  an  agony  of  weeping;  flinging  him  off, 
and  hiding  her  head  among  the  cushions  of  the  couch.  He 
saw  her  slim  body  shake  and  jerk  with  the  violence  of  her 
grief,  and  he  stooped  over  her  in  a  distress  almost  as  great 
as  her  own.  Something  of  the  sort  he  had  expected,  al- 
though he  could  not  understand  it.  But  this  shook  him  to 
the  very  core. 

"  Darling,"  he  said.  "  Darling — for  God's  sake,  don't. 
Jennifer,  Jennifer;  don't  cry  like  that.  Good  Heavens, 
what  can  I  do !  What  can  I  do !  She'll  kill  herself.  Dear- 
est, dearest.  Stop.  Oh,  Lord,  what  a  clumsy  brute  I 
am." 

He  went  down  on  his  knees  beside  her;  pleading  in 
Broken  words ;  trying  to  see  her  face ;  shaking  and  moved 
jeyond  belief  at  her  trouble,  and  yet  knowing  grimly  that 
he  must  hold  such  rights  as  he  had  gained,  both  for  her 
sake  and  for  his  own.  He  could  never  leave  her  now.  She 
iceded  him  too  much. 

"  For  the  love  of  Heaven,  stop,  Jennifer,"  he  said.  "  I — 
I  can't  stand  it.  There  is  nothing  on  earth  should  make 
you  cry  like  that.  Dear;  I'm  not  asking  much  of  you. 
People  get  divorces  every  day,  and  you  have  a  perfect 
right  to  demand  one  of  Ducane.'' 

He  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder;  but  she  shook  it  off, 
and  sprang  up,  with  the  tears  dried  in  her  eyes. 

"  Don't    touch    me,"    she  said,    with     burning     cheeks. 
Don't  touch  me." 

He  had  seen  flashes  of  Jennifer's  occasional  temper  be- 
fore, and  he  breathed  more  freely;  standing  up  against  the 


890  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

mantel-shelf  as  she  walked  through  the  room  with  her 
hands  shut  up,  fighting  for  her  self-control.  He  did  not 
attempt  to  speak,  knowing  that  she  would  scatter  his  words 
out  like  chaff.  He  stood  still,  looking  at  the  black  kitten 
where  it  wound  itself  in  a  spool  of  Jennifer's  thread,  and 
presently  she  burst  out: 

"  You  should  have  helped  me  to  do  what  was  right.  You 
are  the  strongest;  you  should  have  helped  me." 

"  I  did,"  he  said,  not  looking  at  her.  "  It  was  right  for 
you  to  come  to  me.  We  love  each  other." 

"  It  is  not  right  while  Harry  is  alive.  And  I  feel  that 
he  is.  I " 

"  He  is  alive,"  said  Dick  coldly.  "  I  have  left  him  in 
prison  at  Regina  Barracks.  I  found  him  living  among  the 
Esquimaux  with  a  native  wife." 

He  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  at  her  as  he  spoke.  But 
she  swung  round  and  walked  the  room  again,  and  be  could 
not  tell  how  much  she  was  stirred  by  his  news.  She  walked 
in  silence,  and  presently  he  was  ashamed  of  his  brutality. 

"  For  God's  sake  have  some  pity  on  me,  Jennifer,"  he 
said.  "  Don't  treat  me  as  if  I'd  been  a  scoundrel." 

"Then  you  must  help  me  do  what  is  right,"  she  said. 

"  What  do  you  choose  to  call  right  ?  " 

"  Sending  you — away." 

The  voice  very  nearly  broke.  Dick  laughed,  half-im- 
patient, half-desperate. 

"  Merci  much,  as  the  breeds  say.  No,  I'm  not  going  to 
help  you  do  that.  You  hardly  expect  it,  do  you?  " 

"  If  you  love  me,  I  do." 

"  But  this  is  madness,"  he  said  in  exasperation. 
"  There's  no  use  going  over  all  this  ground  again,  Jenni- 
fer. You  know  what  I  thought  before.  Now,  after  what 
you  have  allowed  me  to  do,  I  consider  that  I  have  some 
say  in  the  matter.  I  am  not  going  to  be  sent  away." 

She  stopped  and  looked  at  him  with  her  eyes  wide  in  her 
white  face. 

"  You  are  making  my  punishment  a  very  certain  and 
bitter  thing,"  she  said. 

"  My  darb'ng — oh,  good  Heavens,  what  am  I  to  do  with 
you?  Sweetheart,  when  a  thing  is  done,  it's  done.  You 
showed  me  just  now  that  I  meant  more  to  you  than  anyone 


"BUT    THAT    CAN'T   BE"  391 

else.  You  can't  take  that  back.  It  is  not  right  that  you 
should.  Doesn't  the  God  you  believe  in  allow  His  crea- 
tures happiness,  Jennifer?  And  if  He  does  why  should 
you  deny  it  to  us  both  ?  " 

"  Because  this  would  not  be  the  way  to  get  it/'  she  said. 

He  went  to  her  and  took  her  hand  and  led  her  back  to 
the  couch. 

"  Come  here  and  sit  down,"  he  said.  "  You  are  not  fit 
to  stand.  If  we  have  got  to  go  over  this  again  I  suppose 
we  have  got  to.  But  we  have  not  gone  into  it  lightly,  you 
and  I.  To  disobey  man's  law  means  very  little  to  me. 
Perhaps  I  know  too  many  of  the  reasons  why  he  makes 
many  of  them.  And  I  do  not " 

He  stopped  suddenly.  He  could  not  say  that  he  did  not 
believe  in  a  God  now. 

"  You — you  believe  in  a  God,"  he  muttered,  hardly 
knowing  what  he  said. 

"  In  my  God  and  in  my  conscience,"  said  Jennifer. 
"  Dick,  I  have  got  to  help  Harry  still  if  he  needs  help.  He 
is  my  husband.  I  can't  let  him  utterly  go  to  ruin.  Oh, 
there  is  something  in  me  which  tells  me  that  I  can't." 

She  pressed  her  hands  over  her  heart  again,  looking  at 
him  with  her  wide,  wistful  eyes.  He  could  not  meet  that 
look.  But  in  some  way  it  angered  him.  What  was  that 
thing  in  Tempest  and  in  Jennifer  which  commanded  them 
apart  from  their  hearts  and  their  human  wills?  It  was  a 
power  that  they  dare  not  disobey;  that  they  would  not 
disobey  though  all  that  was  flesh  in  them  cried  out  against 
it.  He  felt  afraid;  groping  in  the  dark  below  them.  That 
great  Eye  seemed  moving  down  from  the  horizon  of  the 
world  again.  Jennifer  could  stand  up  before  it.  Tempest 
could.  But  he  could  not.  He  wanted  his  own  will,  and 
he  hated  that  which  denied  it  to  him. 

"  And  don't  you  think  I  want  help?  "  he  said  bitterly. 

"  Yes.    But  I  can  only  give  it  to  you  by  being  away  from 

you." 

"If  you'd  be  good  enough  not  to  talk  sophistries  or  enig- 
mas— I  beg  your  pardon.  I  don't  know  what  I  am  saying." 

He  sprang  up  and  walked  through  the  room  several 
times.  Then  he  came  back,  beginning  boldly: 

"  I  tell  you   I  need  you  more  than  Ducane  does.     As 


THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

philanthropy  seems  to  mean  more  to  you  than  love  you 
might  make  a  note  of  that.  You've  filled  my  life  up — 
every  hour  of  it " 

His  voice  grew  uneven;  stopped,  and  he  stood  still,  look- 
ing into  the  fire.  For  a  little  while  she  did  not  speak. 
Then  she  said: 

"  What  had  you  wanted  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  To  come  away  with  me  to-morrow."  His  voice  changed 
eagerly.  "  I  could  arrange  that  quite  easily.  And  then 
you'd  go  to  the  States,  and  I'd  meet  you  somewhere." 

"  And  your  work?  " 

He  felt  the  twinge.  But  it  was  a  light  one.  Beside  her 
nothing  else  was  of  moment. 

"  That  doesn't  matter,"  he  said. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Well,  it  doesn't  matter.     You  come  first." 

"  Then  you — meant  to  desert  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you  it  doesn't  matter,"  he  said  impatiently. 
"  They  wouldn't  catch  me.  I  know  more  than  any  of 
them." 

"  Oh!  "  Jennifer  leaned  back,  covering  her  face.  "And 
you  are  so  proud  of  what  you  have  done  in  your  work." 

"  I  would  be  more  proud  of  your  love  for  me,"  he  said 
sincerely. 

"And  then?" 

"  I  could  get  work  somehow.  Anything,  that  paid.  I'm 
strong.  And  I  am  good  at  draughtsmanship.  I  might  get 
into  an  architect's  office.  I  wouldn't  let  things  be  hard  for 
you,  Jennifer." 

He  came  near,  almost  timidly,  as  though"  afraid  that  she 
might  deny  that  which  she  seemed  to  be  giving.  Her  eyes 
ran  over.  He  was  blooded  to  the  wild  ways  and  the  long 
trails.  The  very  breath  of  them  spoke  in  his  daily  speech, 
and  she  knew  she  had  never  plumbed  his  love  for  her  until 
now. 

"  I  told  you  once  before  that  you  were  a  better  man  than 
I  knew,"  she  said.  "  I  tell  you  again.  There  is  some- 
thing too  great  in  you  to  be  spoiled,  Dick.  You  must  make 
it  easy  for  me  to  do  what  I  know  to  be  right." 

His  face  darkened  again.  He  knelt  a  knee  on  the  couch 
beside  her. 


"BUT    THAT    CAN'T   BE"  393 

"  There  is  nothing  great  in  me  except  my  love  for  you," 
he  said.  "  With  your  love  I  might  make  something  of  my 
life,  even  if  I — though  I  give  this  work  up.  But  if  you 
send  me  away  I  can't  say  what  I  shall  do,  Jennifer.  There 
is  nothing  in  me  which  holds  me  straight.  I  don't  want  to 
be  held  straight." 

"  Not  for  my  sake  ?  " 

"  No.  Not  for  your  sake,  without  you.  You  don't  know 
very  much  of  a  man's  temper,  Jennifer.  And  you  don't 
know  the  work  I'm  on  just  now.  They  are  sending  me  out 
after  Grange's  Andree.  She  is  wanted,  and  I'm  to  go  till 
I  find  her." 

He  spoke  roughly,  wanting  to  rouse  her  jealousy.  But 
he  felt  the  unworthiness  of  his  thought  when  she  looked  up 
at  him. 

"Poor  Andree,"  she  said.  "Poor,  poor  Andree.  Oh, 
Dick ;  be  good  to  her.  She  cares  for  you,  and  she  is  too — 
too  ignorant  to  hide  it." 

"  I  know  she  cares.     I  taught  her  to,"  he  said. 

Jennifer  put  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"  Don't  hurt  us  both  that  way,  dear,"  she  said.  "  Can't 
we  say  good-bye  without  hard  words  ?  " 

"  God  knows,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  see  how  we're  going 
to  say  it  at  all.  I  don't  see  why  we  should  say  it."  He 
gripped  both  her  hands  suddenly,  bringing  his  face  near. 
It  was  very  white,  and  the  forehead  was  wet. 

"  Jennifer,"  he  said,  "  I  need  you.  Don't  turn  me  away. 
I  need  you.  I  don't  know  what  I  may  do." 

He  was  speaking  with  a  premonition  of  what  was  to 
come  upon  him.  She  shivered,  but  her  eyes  were  steady. 

"  It's  something  beyond  me,  Dick,"  she  said.  "  I  know 
I  must  send  you  away.  I  know.  You  must  find  your  own 
salvation,  and  fight  your  fight  alone." 

"  Then  you  don't  love  me  as  I  love  you,"  he  said  huskily. 
"  You  are  not  willing  to  give  up  even  a  private  scruple  for 
me." 

He  did  not  say  what  he  had  been  willing  to  give  up  for 
her.  But  she  knew,  though  even  then  she  did  not  know  all. 

"  I  would  give  up  my  life  for  you,"  she  said.  "  But  the 
other  thing  is  not  mine  to  give.  It  belongs  to  God." 

She  said  it  quite  simply,  as  though  she  believed  it.   Dick 


394  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

looked  at  her  a  moment.     Then  he  stood  up,  drawing  his 
breath  in  between  his  teeth. 

"  That  ends  it,  I  fancy,"  he  said.  "  I  suppose  you  hope 
that  some  day  I'll  come  to  love  that  Power  which  you  have 
set  up  between  us.  I  am  not  quite  such  a  fool,  Jennifer. 
I  shall  never  do  anything  but  hate  it." 

He  turned  down  the  room  as  though  to  leave  her  with- 
out another  word.  But  at  the  door  he  wheeled  swiftly  and 
came  back;  caught  her  close  in  his  arms;  kissed  her  once 
on  the  lips,  and  let  her  go.  She  heard  his  quick,  firm  tread 
across  the  floor  and  the  decisive  shutting  of  the  door.  And 
then  she  dropped  down  on  the  couch  in  a  little  heap  with 
her  face  covered. 

Jennifer's  mother  also  heard  the  shutting  of  the  door. 
She  had  been  listening  for  it  ever  since  she  came  down 
the  passageway  more  than  half  an  hour  ago,  and  found 
Dick's  coat  and  cap  outside  the  door.  She  had  seen  the 
shining  buttons  of  the  Mounted  Police  among  the  fur,  and 
with  a  sudden  chill  at  her  heart  she  had  stooped  and  felt 
the  lining  of  the  thick  coat  and  the  cap.  They  were  quite 
cold,  and  then  she  knew  to  whom  they  must  belong.  If  it 
were  any  other  man  Jennifer  would  have  come  to  call  her 
long  since. 

She  went  back  to  her  room,  sitting  with  the  door  half- 
open,  and  listening  for  that  step.  She  had  never  seen  Dick. 
She  had  not  known  his  name  until  she  came  to  Grey  Wolf. 
Jennifer  never  spoke  of  him.  But  she  knew  the  hold  that 
he  had  on  her  daughter's  heart,  and  she  knew  that  she  was 
helpless  here.  She,  with  all  her  love  and  her  long  years 
of  cherishing  was  helpless  against  this  unknown  man  who 
had  trodden  farther  into  Jennifer's  heart  than  she  could 
ever  tread.  She  sat  still  in  her  chair,  with  her  delicate 
wrinkled  hands  pressed  together,  and  waited  for  him  to 
come  by.  And  when  she  heard  the  door  shut  she  went 
out  into  the  passage  swiftly,  so  that  he  must  pass  her  as 
he  came. 

She  watched  him  as  he  come,  walking  straightly.  He 
held  his  cap  in  his  hand,  and  his  big  coat  fell  open,  showing 
the  dull  blurr  of  khaki.  He  came  as  a  man  who  knew  his 
Way;  glancing  at  her  carelessly  with  bold,  imperious  eyes 
that  seemed  to  look  through  her  and  pass  on.  To  his 


"BUT   THAT   CAN'T   BE"  395 

knowledge  he  did  not  see  her  at  all.  He  did  not  hear  her. 
But  he  was  vivid  enough  to  her.  She  never  forgot  the 
sensation  of  his  passing  her;  the  free,  swinging  step;  the 
erect  head-carriage,  and  that  rush  of  vitality  which  seemed 
to  quicken  the  air  about  him  as  he  moved.  He  turned 
down  the  angle  of  the  passage,  and  she  heard  him  go 
through  the  front  door  and  shut  it.  The  very  clap  of  its 
shutting  frightened  her.  That  man  was  not  made  of  the 
stuff  which  is  easily  mastered.  If  Jennifer  had  sent  him 
away  again,  then  there  had  been  a  battle  first  which  her 
gentle  heart  quaked  to  think  of. 

Twice  she  went  down  to  the  closed  door  of  the  sitting- 
room,  and  twice  she  crept  away  again.  Then,  with  sudden 
courage,  she  opened  the  door  and  went  in.  Jennifer  sprang 
up  with  a  sudden  cry.  Then,  seeing  her  mother,  she 
dropped  back,  trembling  and  trying  to  smile. 

"  Why,  what  a  start  you  gave  me,  little  mother/'  she 
said. 

The  elder  mother  came  over,  and  took  the  cold  hands 
and  fondled  them.  Almost  she  was  afraid  to  speak.  It 
seemed  as  though  her  daughter  were  gone  into  a  different 
world:  a  place  where  she  could  not  follow;  where  she  did 
not  understand  the  language.  Then,  nervously,  she  said: 

"  Someone  passed  me  just  now  in  the  passage,  dear." 

"  Oh ! "  Jennifer  drew  in  a  long  breath,  and  the  colour 
came  painfully  back  to  her  face. 

"  It  was — it  was  Mr.  Heriot,  dear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother." 

"  Is  he — do  you  expect  him  to  come  back  again,  Jenni- 
fer?" 

"  No,  Mother." 

Then  suddenly  Jennifer  turned  and  flung  her  arms  round 
her  mother's  neck. 

"  Hold  me  tight — tight,"  she  sobbed.  "  Pretend  I'm 
your  little  baby  girl  again,  mumsie.  Oh,  hold  me  tight; 
mother,  mother ! " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

"  THE  EPITOME   OF   LIFE  " 

"A  la  claire  fontaine 

M'en  all  ant  promener; 
J'ai  trouver  1'  eau  si  belle 
Que  je  m'y  suis  baigne." 

THE  strong,  soft  voice  died  out  as  the  passing  breed  swung 
by  on  his  snow-shoes  through  the  clear,  frosty  night. 
Slicker  turned  back  from  the  window  with  the  hard  lines 
of  his  young  face  softened  too.  But  he  did  not  cross  the 
room  where,  at  one  end  of  the  table,  the  men  of  the  Split 
Lake  Detachment  were  gathered  in  a  mist  of  tobacco-smoke 
and  a  silence  broken  only  by  the  curt  sentences  as  the  cards 
went  round.  Slicker  was  one  of  the  four  at  that  table 
usually;  but  a  prospector  passing  through  to  the  North 
had  taken  his  place  to-night,  and  so  Slicker  had  stood  at 
the  window  and  heard  the  breed  sing  and  felt  a  wave  of 
home-sickness  for  the  old  life  with  Jennifer  and  Dick  and 
Tempest  in  it. 

For  three  months  now  he  had  known  this  Split  Lake  life; 
and  to  him  it  had  been  a  time  of  stagnation  and  of  numb- 
ing ideals.  He  had  expected  so  much  from  the  call  to 
which  he  had  answered;  knowing  as  he  did  the  work  at 
Grey  Wolf,  the  stern  self-denial  and  the  long  hours  of 
labour  on  an  under-manned,  difficult  post.  Slicker  had  pre- 
pared himself  for  that.  He  was  ardent  for  self-sacrifice. 
He  was  ready  to  die  on  the  trail  if  need  be  for  the  glory 
of  service.  He  was  eager  to  serve  nobly  and  with  his 
whole  heart.  And  Life  had  required  of  him  another  test 
than  this.  It  had  sent  him  to  one  for  which  he  was  ill- 
prepared  and  ill-fitted.  It  had  sent  him  to  a  lonely  post 
where  the  only  give-and-take  of  thought  was  from  these 
men  at  the  table;  where  there  was  little  work  to  do  and 
less  to  see  and  less  still  to  think  about.  This  detachment 

396 


"THE    EPITOME    OF   LIFE "  397 

was  a  integral  part  of  the  whole:  it  guarded  a  line;  it 
made  a  nucleus  for  a  mighty  tract  of  country.  But  few 
people  passed  that  line — few  came  on  to  it  from  the  country. 
It  was  there  as  a  warning  and  a  promise,  but  it  had  few 
chances  of  fulfilling  either. 

When  the  winter  wood  was  drawn  and  cut;  when  the 
walls,  were  muddied-up,  and  the  sleds  overhauled,  and  a 
few  more  necessary  things  done,  work  was  at  a  dead-lock 
— until  something  happened.  And  things  did  not  often 
happen  at  Split  Lake.  The  other  men  accepted  the  stag- 
nation contentedly  enough.  They  slept  a  good  deal,  they 
smoked,  and  they  played  cards;  and,  according  to  Cordy's 
assertion,  they  "pegged  along  very  comfortably."  But 
for  Slicker  with  his  young  high  heart  and  his  aspirations 
the  life  was  purgatory.  He  puckered  his  brows,  looking 
at  the  men  with  a  kind  of  hate.  He  was  so  tired  of  them: 
of  little  Hopper,  the  Sergeant,  morose  and  nervous  and 
with  a  curious  dread  of  being  left  alone ;  of  the  dull,  stupid 
Smith,  with  his  limited,  coarse  thoughts;  even  of  Cordy, 
the  light-hearted  gentleman  who  was  his  one  friend  and 
who  was  always  full  of  laughing  regrets  that  he  could  not 
cease  to  dress  and  move  like  a  man  of  the  London  Clubs. 
Slicker  wondered  idly  why  Cordy  had  ever  come  away 
from  them;  why  he  didn't  go  back.  And  then,  suddenly, 
he  saw  Hopper,  the  nervous  little  Sergeant,  who  was  play- 
ing on  Cordy's  right,  thrust  his  chair  back  and  stand  up. 

"  I've  had  enough,"  he  said,  in  that  uncertainly  defiant 
voice  of  his.  "  There's  some  kinds  of  luck  a  man  can't 
play  against." 

Smith  looked  up  with  a  whistle  of  amaze,  but  the  man 
on  Cordy's  left  sat  still.  If  Hopper  was  his  host,  so  was 
Cordy.  Cordy  swept  up  the  cards. 

"  Perhaps  you'll  have  better  luck  next  time,"  he  said 
pleasantly. 

"  There  won't  be  a  next  time."  Hopper  gripped  the 
chair-back  fiercely,  and  Slicker  came  forward  in  a  hurry. 
He  felt  as  though  the  hinted  accusation  had  been  flung  at 
himself.  But  Cordy  was  untroubled.  He  lifted  his  eye- 
brows. 

"  Just  as  you  like,  of  course,"  he  said.     "  Hallo,  Slicker, 
you  take  a  hand?  " 


398  THE    L'AW-BRINGERS 

"  Don't  you.  Unless  you  got  more  money  than  you 
want  to  keep." 

"  Oh !  I  say,"  said  Slicker,  and  turned  from  Hopper's 
scarlet  face  to  Cordy,  expecting  to  see  the  anger  that  he 
knew  was  in  his  own  eyes.  But  Cordy  laughed,  although 
there  was  a  dull  flush  on  his  cheeks. 

"  Losers  are  allowed  some  latitude,"  he  said.  "  I'm 
sorry,  Hopper,  but  you  can't  win  every  time.  Just  see 
what  your  luck  last  night  has  done  to  your  temper !  " 

"  We  were  not  playing  for  such  big  stakes  last  night." 

"  Lord,  man ;  you  don't  call  these  big  stakes !  Don't 
be  sarcastic.  Coming,  Slicker?  " 

A  moment  Slicker  hesitated.  Then  he  slipped  into  Hop- 
per's chair,  and  Hopper  turned  and  walked  out  of  the 
room  sharply.  The  game  went  on,  and  Cordy's  easy  man- 
ner soon  brushed  the  restraint  off  it.  But  Slicker  played 
badly.  He  felt  vaguely  outraged;  not  so  much  at  the 
accusation  as  at  the  fact  that  Cordy  did  not  seem  to  resent 
it.  For  his  own  honour,  for  the  honour  of  the  Force,  for 
the  honour  of  this  little  post  itself,  Cordy  ought  have  re- 
sented it  before  this  quiet-eyed,  observant  civilian  who  lost 
his  money  with  such  equanimity.  Slicker  had  worked  him- 
self into  acute  indignation  by  the  time  the  evening  was 
done,  and  Cordy  had  cheerfully  seen  the  prospector  into 
his  room  down  the  passage  and  had  come  back  to  turn  the 
lamp  out.  Smith  was  gone;  but  Slicker  sat  at  the  table 
with  his  blue  eyes  alight  and  that  square  look  on  his  jaw 
which  Cordy  had  come  to  know.  He  went  straight  to  his 
point. 

"Why  didn't  you  give  Hopper  the  lie  just  now?"  he 
demanded. 

Cordy  yawned.  But  there  was  an  unpleasant  look  in  his 
eyes. 

"  This  life  imposes  bonds  considerably  tighter  than  the 
marriage-bond,  my  dear  boy,"  he  said.  "  I  have  probably 
got  to  live  with  Hopper  for  the  next  few  years — and  he 
is  my  boss." 

"  Will  it  improve  the  situation  to  have  him  think  you  a 
cheat?" 

"  My  dear  Slicker ! "  Cordy  laughed,  but  his  cheeks 
took  their  dull  flesh  again.  "  You  haven't  learnt  the  graces 


"THE    EPITOME    OF    LIFE"  399 

of  speech  yet.  Why,  of  course,  it  will  improve  it.  Hop- 
per will  bear  anything  better  than  contradiction.  And 
how  could  I  disabuse  his  mind  except  by  my  fists?  I 
don't  want  to  go  out  of  here  in  irons." 

"If  you'd  given  him  your  word  of  honour  he'd  have  had 
to  believe  you !  " 

Cordy  glanced  at  him  sharply.  There  was  something 
of  envy  and  of  pain  in  the  quickly-veiled  eyes.  He  knew, 
and  Hopper  knew,  why  he  did  not  offer  his  word  of 
honour.  And  Hopper  knew,  as  he  knew,  that  the  matter 
would  have  to  blow  over  simply  because  these  lonely  men 
dared  not  make  their  daily  life  intolerable.  Cordy  regis- 
tered a  determination  that  Hopper  should  be  his  partner 
for  a  few  times  when  a  fellow  came  by  who  was  worth 
fleecing.  That  would  shut  Hopper's  mouth  if  nothing  else 
would.  He  yawned  again. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  boy,  what  do  these  louts  know  about  a 
word  of  honour?  "  he  said.  Then  he  laughed  softly,  draw- 
ing up  his  coat  as  he  stood  before  the  stove.  "  That  re- 
minds me  of  a  funny  story  that  happened  to  a  chap  I  knew 
in  England."  He  paused,  with  light  raillery  in  his  eyes. 
"  I  don't  know  if  you're  old  enough  to  hear  it,"  he  added. 

Slicker  fingered  his  lip  where  the  soft  down  was  already 
beginning  to  part  itself  into  a  moustache.  This  touched 
him  on  the  quick  as  Cordy  knew. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said  surlily.  And  he  laughed  when  it  was 
told;  for  it  was  very  funny,  etnd  Cordy's  subtle  delinea- 
tions flattered  his  raw  manhood.  But  he  went  to  bed  more 
uneasy  than  he  cared  to  allow.  That  little  song  had  in 
some  way  brought  Jennifer  and  Tempest  very  clearly  into 
his  mind.  And  he  did  not  care  to  think  of  them  in  connec- 
tion with  Cordy. 

For  several  days  the  thought  of  Tempest  possessed  him. 
He  knew,  of  course,  that  Tempest  was  at  Churchill  and 
that  he  would  probably  come  out  as  soon  as  he  Was  fit. 
He  realised  that  of  late  he  had  not  been  very  anxious 
to  see  Tempest  again,  and  with  that  straight  courage  which 
seldom  failed  him  he  sought  the  reason  and  found  it.  He 
did  not  want  to  have  Cordy  tell  Tempest  that  he  and 
Slicker  were  such  good  chums.  And  he  knew  just  exactly 
how  Cordy  would  say  it,  too.  This  matter  kept  him  sulky; 


400  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

until  he  found  a  solution  where  nine-tenths  of  humanity 
finds  it,  in  a  compromise.  He  could  not  quarrel  with 
Cordy.  That  would  be  absurd;  besides,  the  old  fellow 
was  really  such  awfully  good  company.  And  he  could 
not  tell  him  that  his  way  of  looking  at  life  was  not  ele- 
vating. Cordy  had  seen  much  more  of  life  than  Slicker, 
and  he  would  think  Slicker  a  fool.  No;  he  could  not 
behave  differently  to  Cordy,  but  he  would  not  let  what 
Cordy  said  hurt  him.  "A  fellow  can  laugh  at  a  joke 
without  approving  of  it,"  he  told  himself. 

But  when  Tempest  came  Slicker  was  taken  unawares 
For  Cordy  groaned. 

"  Don't  you  think  it's  likely  to  be — well — to  be  a  little 
dull  to-night? "  he  asked.  "  I  wouldn't  say  anything 
against  the  Inspector,  of  course.  But  he  will  inspect  more 
than  our  kits  and  our  teeth,  won't  he?  Have  you  got  your 
soul  cleaned  up,  Slicker?" 

"  Tempest  doesn't  preach,"  said  Slicker,  but  he  red- 
dened. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  boy,  no.  He's  a  gentleman,  of  course. 
But  can't  you  just  see  how  Tempest,  the  immaculate,  will 
look  on  us,  the  erring  ones.  He  won't  say  anything,  of 
course;  but  he'll  purse  his  mouth  up  and  shake  his  head 
inside  himself  at  our  card-playing.  I'm  going  to  take  the 
very  shirt  off  you  to-night,  Slicker.  But  I'll  let  you  have 
it  back  to-morrow.  As  philosophers,  you  know,  we  are 
bound  to  meet  circumstances  as  cheerfully  as  we  can." 

"  Tempest  plays  cards  himself,"  said  Slicker. 

"  Cribbage,"  suggested  Cordy.  "  Or  is  it  patience, 
Slicker  ?  " 

Slicker  laughed  with  him,  although  he  felt  the  treachery 
to  Tempest.  But  he  went  away  thinking  that  perhaps 
Tempest  was  a  little — well,  not  exactly  the  sort  of  fellow 
one  would  set  out  to  have  a  jolly  time  with.  And  Cordy 
was. 

But  Cordy  had  made  a  miscalculation  when  he  asserted 
that  Tempest  would  not  say  anything.  Acting  on  this 
belief  he  forced  animal  spirits  to  take  the  place  of  the 
drink  which  was  debarred  at  the  detachment,  and  in  a  little 
while  he  heard  Tempest  come  down  the  passage  which  sep- 
arated the  mess-room  from  Hooper's  quarters.  Tempest 


"THE    EPITOME    OF   LIFE"  401 

stood  in  the  door,  smiling  at  Slicker,  who,  stripped  to  shirt 
and  trousers  and  with  his  hair  wild,  was  attempting  to 
sand-bag  Cordy  as  the  elder  man  dodged  and  feinted  and 
doubled.  There  was  considerable  skill  shown  by  both,  and 
Tempest  dropped  into  a  chair  and  watched  them.  It  was 
against  strict  etiquette,  but  he  had  known  Slicker  so  well 
once.  He  had  been  in  a  little  earlier  in  the  evening,  wait- 
ing for  Hooper  to  finish  a  game  of  cards,  and  he  looked  on 
now  with  a  very  much  clearer  knowledge  of  Cordy  than 
Cordy  imagined.  And  neither  he  nor  Hopper  guessed  why 
Tempest  had  insisted  that  the  Sergeant  should  finish  his 
game.  Nor  why  Tempest  came  back  now. 

They  were  exhausted  presently,  and  Tempest  made  them 
sit  down  and  talk.  He  had  not  seen  Slicker  since  the  boy 
had  worn  the  khaki  and  he  chaffed  him  about  it,  good- 
naturedly  and  cleverly  enough  to  make  Cordy  laugh  once. 
In  some  way  this  astonished  Slicker.  He  was  coming 
to  look  on  stronger  meat  as  the  only  possible  material  for 
jokes.  And  that  Cordy  should  laugh  raised  his  opinion 
of  Tempest  considerably.  But  the  real  mischief  in  Cordy 
which  had  enabled  him  to  weather  all  the  winds  that 
buffeted  him  was  his  undoing  very  presently.  Slicker 
never  quite  remembered  at  what  point  of  the  conversation 
he  felt  Tempest  look  at  him;  look  again,  and  finally  break 
in  on  Cordy 's  easy-flowing  speech. 

"  Slicker,"  he  said,  "  I  wish  you'd  ask  the  Sergeant  if 
my  kit  has  been  taken  to  my  room.  And  I'm  going  to 
ask  you  to  unpack  it  for  me.  I  can't  do  much  stooping 
yet." 

What  Tempest  said  to  Cordy  after  the  door  was  shut 
Slicker  never  knew  in  the  least,  for  Cordy  showed  no  af- 
ter-signs of  it.  But  what  Tempest  said  to  Slicker  him- 
self Slicker  knew  very  certainly.  Tempest  had  an  apt 
directness  of  speech  on  some  occasions. 

"I  am  going  to  use  a  very  unpleasant  simile,  Slicker," 
he  said ;  "  and  I  am  using  it  because  I  think  it  more  ap- 
propriate than  any  other.  There  are  many  men  and  ani- 
mals which  are  attracted  by  vile  smells  and  tastes — high 
game,  rotten  cheese,  asafcetida,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing. 
Those  are  the  physical  attractions.  Animals — we  say  un- 
fortunately for  them,  but  there  may  be  some  doubts  about 


402  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

that — cannot  be  attracted  on  the  mental  side  as  men  must 
be — and  are.  Your  friend  Cordy  is  mentally  attracted  by 
mental  Bombay  ducks  and  putrid  game.  I  won't  add  gar- 
lic; that's  a  healthy  smell,  though  I  don't  like  it  myself." 

Slicker  wriggled  in  his  chair,  but  his  manner  suggested 
that  he  had  expected  something  of  this  sort  and  was  in- 
different to  it.  Tempest  looked  at  him  narrowly. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  here,   Slicker  ?  "  he  askeJ. 

"  Four  months/'  said  Slicker  sulkily. 

"  And  Cordy  is  the  only  friend  you've  got  ?  " 

"  There's  no  one  else." 

"  No.  There's  no  one  else,  I  suppose.  I  wonder  if  you 
remember  anything  of  what  I  said  that  day  in  Grey  Wolf 
when  you  asked  me  if  you  should  join  the  Force?  " 

"  Yes.  But — but  I  say,  Tempest  " — Slicker  forgot  his 
rank  and  uniform — "  a  fellow  can't  stay  a  kid  all  his  life. 
I've  got  to  do  as  men  do  when  I'm  with  them,  you  know." 

"  Do  I?     But  why  not  make  them  do  as  you  do?" 

This  was  a  new  thought  to  Slicker.     He  stared. 

"  I  couldn't,"  he  said. 

"You  mean  that  you  have  not  enough  character;  not 
enough  initiative,  or  brain,  or  common-sense?" 

This  was  not  pretty,  put  into  words.  Slicker  reddened, 
standing  still. 

"  Poor  old  fellow,"  said  Tempest.  "  It  isn't  easy,  is 
it?  But  you  didn't  expect  ease  when  you  gave  yourself 
to  us." 

"  I  don't  want  ease,"  burst  out  Slicker.  "  I  want  work, 
and  there's  nothing  to  do  here.  That's  the — the  damnable 
part  of  it  all.  There's  nothing  to  do  and  nothing  to  drink, 
and  so  I  fool  around  with  Cordy.  I  can't  help  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Tempest,  "  you  remember  our  motto,  don't 
you?  We  maintain  the  right  over  a  fairly  big  jurisdic- 
tion— several  million  square  miles.  But  that's  not  so  much 
to  be  proud  of  if  we  can't  maintain  it  over  ourselves.  I 
don't  know  if  there  are  many  men  fit  to  preach  to  other 
men  on  that  exact  point.  I'm  not.  We  all  have  some 
special  place  where  we  fail  most,  Slicker,  and  it  will 
probably  trip  us  more  or  less  all  our  lives.  But  because 
a  fellow  has  fallen  over  a  stone  he  is  not  debarred  from 
shouting  a  warning  to  the  fellow  behind.  I  have  no  right 


"THE    EPITOME    OF    LIFE"  403 

to  do  more  than  shout  the  warning.  But  you'll  allow  me 
that,  won't  you?  " 

"  I  wish  to  goodness  I'd  been  put  somewhere  under  you." 

"  That  woudn't  be  very  much  use.  We  can't  do  such  a 
tremendous  lot  for  each  other,  old  fellow.  And  if  we  try 
we  perhaps  make  things  worse." 

He  was  thinking  of  something  which  had  been  done  to 
himself  under  the  name  of  help.  Slicker  saw  the  shade 
on  his  face,  and  the  crust  of  these  latter  days  split  through 
completely. 

"  You  know — sometimes  when  I  used  to  hear  you  and 
Jennifer  yarning  about  all  kinds  of  things — or  when  you 
used  to  get  on  to  Dick,  and  the  old  beggar  would  smoke 
and  grin  quietly  till  he  had  you  up  on  your  feet — then  I 
felt  that  I — that  I  wanted  to — to  go  out  and  do  some 
of  the  big  things  that  fellows  did  in  the  old  days.  I  did 
really,  Tempest.  And  now — to  have  nothing  to  do.  It's 
knocked  the  bottom  out  of  all  my  ideas.  It's  a  rotten 
life." 

"  There's  the  army  that  pushes  the  trail  through  into  the 
enemy's  country,  and  there  are  the  details  who  guard  the 
line.  They  are  of  equal  importance."  Tempest  smiled. 
"  You  may  not  have  to  be  a  detail  for  long,"  he  said. 
"  But  if  you  are  you  must  remember  that  you're  necessary 
or  you  wouldn't  be  here.  I  mentioned  to  Cordy  that  he 
wasn't  exactly  the  man  I'd  choose  for  an  intimate  friend, 
and  he  may  profit  by  the  hint  or  he  may  take  his  revenge 
out  of  you.  But  more  probably  he  won't  do  either.  I'm 
going  straight  to  Regina  now,  and  I'll  see  what  I  can  do 
there.  But  if  I  can't  do  anything,  you  remember,  Slicker, 
that  Cordy  is  better  as  an  enemy  than  as  a  friend."  Tem- 
pest screwed  his  face  up  as  though  he  tasted  something 
unpleasant.  "  He's  a  highly-specialised  and  refined  beast," 
he  said.  "  And  they're  the  worst  sort.  I  hate  to  know 
that  there  are  such  fellows  in  the  Force.  It  gives  some 
people  a  chance  to  call  us  a  refuge  for  derelicts;  though, 
thank  Heaven,  I  don't  think  there  are  many  like 
him." 

Tempest  did  not  forget  his  promise  when  he  came  to 
report  to  the  Commissioner  at  Regina  three  weeks  later. 
He  touched  on  the  matter  lightly,  with  an  apology. 


404  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  For  the  boy  joined  on  my  recommendation/'  he  said. 
"  And  he's  a  clever  boy.  I  think  he  may  be  worth  a  good 
deal  to  us  if  he  has  a  fair  start.  He  has  a  temperament 
which  takes  up  some  things  very  enthusiastically." 

"  Then  he  probably  won't  stay  with  us.  The  work  is 
not  what  it  was  when  J  was  on  patrol.  Too  much  sentry-go 
and  too  little  whiskey-smuggling  and  raiding  to  please  the 
men.  Isn't  that  so?  " 

"  Why,  certainly — in  some  cases."  Tempest  thought  of 
Dick.  "  But  I  believe  young  Warriner  would  want  to  stay 
if  he  had  more  to  do." 

"  Well,  I'll  make  a  note  of  it.     Perhaps  I  can  move  him. 

You  say  that  one  of  the  men  is  a  bad  companion  for  him  ?  " 

"  Undoubtedly.     I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  had  trouble 

with  him  later.     Other  parts  of  the  world  have  possibly 

had  trouble  with  him  already." 

"  I'll  make  a  note  of  that,  too."  The  Commissioner 
turned  from  the  subject  with  relief.  "  You  are  not  quite 
strong  yet?  I  notice  that  you  limp  a  little.  It  started 
from  a  fall,  did  it?  " 

"  The  rheumatism  settled  in  my  hip.  But  I'll  be  all 
right  once  the  warm  weather  comes.  Yes;  it  was  a  fall. 
I  ricked  myself." 

"  Ah !  I  want  to  put  you  in  charge  of  the  MacKenzie 
District,  Tempest.  Channing  has  resigned,  and  he  comes 
out  this  summer.  You'll  get  your  furlough  first,  of  course. 
But  if  the  doctor  won't  pass  you  I  don't  quite  know  what 
I'm  going  to  do." 

"  He  will  pass  me,"  said  Tempest  quietly. 
He  sat  silent  for  a  minute,  trying  to  brace  himself  for 
the  next  thing  which  he  wanted  to  say.  Andree  was  sel- 
dom long  away  from  his  thoughts;  but  as  he  got  nearer 
Regina  she  filled  them  up  with  a  completeness  which  was 
absolute  torture.  Sight  of  the  familiar  little  chapel  and 
the  prison  across  the  barrack  square  had  made  him  giddy 
with  the  flood  of  realisation.  Was  Andree  now  shut  in 
Fort  Saskatchewan  prison?  Had  she  met  her  death  there, 
or  did  she  live  still?  His  love  for  her  was  now  protection 
and  pity  only;  but  the  memory  of  what  had  been  was  sharp. 
He  turned  in  his  chair  with  his  face  from  the  light. 
"  Corporal  Heriot  brought  out  some  more  information 


"THE    EPITOME    OF    LIFE"  405 

about  the  Robison-Ogilvie  case,"  he  said.     "  Has  it  been 
followed  up  ?  " 

The   Commissioner   frowned. 

"  That  is  the  worst  case  we  have  had  in  the  Force/'  he 
said.  "  I  hate  to  think  of  it.  We  have  hanged  an  in- 
nocent man,  and  the  girl  who  is  responsible  for  the  two 
deaths  lias  gone  off  to  the  North  somewhere.  I  sent  Heriot 
after  her  once,  and  he'll  get  her  if  anyone  can.  But  I 
don't  expect  to  hear  any  more  for  a  long  while  yet.  She 
had  about  two  months'  start." 

Tempest  had  schooled  himself  to  hear  something  which 
would  hurt.  But  not  all  his  self-control  was  quite  suffi- 
cient. The  Commissioner  looked  up. 

"  You  knew  something  about  her,  too,  did  you?     I  re- 
member that  Heriot  was  very  averse  to  going.     Had  he — 
but  that  is  no  business  of  mine.     I  told  him  not  to  come 
back  without  her,  and  he  is  too  keen  on  his  work  to  fail." 
Tempest  stood  up,  smiling  a  little. 

"  No.  I  don't  expect  that  he  will  fail,"  he  said.  "  And 
I  must  ask  you  to  excuse  me,  sir.  I'm  sleeping  at  the 
Ferrar's  to-night,  and  they  have  people  coming  for  dinner, 
so  I'll  have  to  go  round  and  borrow  some  clothes.  I  have 
only  my  kit  here." 

But  he  walked  across  the  square  to  the  married  officers' 
quarters  and  up  to  his  room  in  Ferrar's  house  without  think- 
ing any  more  about  the  clothes.  He  did  not  quite  know 
what  he  thought  until  he  caught  his  eyes  asking  him  the 
question  from  the  mirror.  It  was  chiefly  the  eyes  which 
told  how  Tempest  had  suffered.  The  eager  glow  in  them 
was  quenched,  and  the  steady  light  which  shone  instead 
kept  its  gravity,  even  when  he  smiled.  There  were  a  few 
white  threads  in  the  thick  hair,  and  the  temporal  arteries 
showed  more  clearly.  But  the  wind-tanned,  muscle-hard 
face  held  its  fine  lines  still,  and  his  mouth  had  not  lost 
its  sweetness. 

"Dick!"  he  said  to  the  eyes  in  the  mirror.  "Dick!" 
He  sat  down,  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands,  shaking  with 
the  rebellion  against  life  which  swept  over  him.  He  judged 
Dick  as  more  merciless,  more  indifferent,  more  wilfully 
cruel  than  he  really  was,  and  for  the  moment  he  hated 
most  fiercely  the  man  who  had  been  his  friend  and  whom 


406  THE    LAW-BRIXGERS 

he  loved  still,  as  he  knew  that  Dick  loved  him.  Dick 
would  not  fail.  He  would  bring  Andree  back  to  that 
justice  which  had  waited  her  over-long.  And  Andree  loved 
him.  Tempest  did  not  dare  let  himself  think  for  many 
minutes  on  that  flight  and  the  return.  He  got  up  and  went 
out  through  the  grey  chill  dusk  to  borrow  a  mess  suit  from 
Charteris  or  Bayne  or  someone  else. 

Charteris  could  not  lend,  because  he  also  was  going  to 
dinner  at  the  Ferrar's ;  but  he  arranged  the  matter  for 
Tempest,  insisted  on  his  dressing  at  the  Bachelor  Quarters, 
and  walked  over  with  him  afterwards.  Charteris  was  a 
good-natured,  obtuse  man  with  a  tendency  to  spread  him- 
self over  the  affairs  of  others,  and  he  made  the  conversation 
at  table  more  personal  than  Tempest  desired.  He  had  just 
been  East  for  his  leave,  and  had  stayed  with  Tempest's 
people,  and  he  did  not  forget  it. 

"  They'll  never  let  you  come  back  a  bachelor,  Tem- 
pest," he  said.  "  There's  your  sister  engaged  and  Lloyd 
married,  and  young  Stuart  thinking  about  it.  You  will 
have  to  take  the  plunge  some  day,  you  know.  Ferrars 
can  tell  you  that  it  isn't  as  bad  as  it's  supposed  to  be." 

"  Ferrars  had  a  special  inducement."  Tempest  turned 
to  Mrs.  Ferrars  with  his  smiling  courtesy.  "  And  also 
a  good  deal  of  conceit.  There  is  no  other  occasion  on 
which  a  man  needs  such  a  good  opinion  of  himself,  is 
there?" 

"  Except  in  the  dock.  It's  marvellous  how  nerve  will 
carry  a  fellow  through  them.  Does  anyone  remember 
that  case  of  young  Claverley " 

"  We  have  all  forgotten  it,  Charteris/'  said  Ferrars 
blandly.  "  And  we  are  not  going  to  be  pilloried  for  our 
ignorance.  It  would  be  quite  as  hopeless  as  discussing 
the  Balkan  trouble  or  the  reason  why  so  many  men  prefer 
death  in  an  aeroplane  to  life  on  the  earth." 

"  Or  a  year's  isolation  round  the  rim  of  the  Pole  to  city 
comforts.  How  long  since  you  have  eaten  with  a  silver 
fork  or  drunk  wine,  Tempest?  " 

"  I  forget.  But  I  have  borne  those  deprivations  with 
much  greater  equanimity  than  I  bore  the  loss  of  my  razor 
when  a  breed  upset  all  my  dunnage  in  Pelican  Rapids. 
It's  awful  how  a  man  accustomed  to  a  smooth  face  loses 


"THE    EPITOME    OF    LIFE"  407 

his  self-respect  when  he  can't  shave  for  weeks  at  a  time." 

The  pretty  girl  at  Tempest's  side  looked  up  at  him. 
Mrs.  Ferrars  had  placed  her  there  in  order  that  she  should. 

"  Fancy  thinking  of  that  in  such  a  strenuous  life.  How 
wonderful  you  are,"  she  sighed. 

"  I  know,"  admitted  Tempest.  "  But  so  few  people  rec- 
ognise it.  I  have  to  be  Bowdlerised  for  ordinary  conver- 
sation, you  see." 

"  He  means  that  the  person  who  hasn't  been  there  only 
understands  and  commends  us  for  the  obvious  things,"  in- 
terpreted Bolton,  who  was  an  Inspector  himself.  "And 
they  are  never  the  things  that  are  of  any  conse- 
quence." 

"  Oh,"  murmured  a  soft  voice  on  Tempest's  other  side, 
"  Clothes,  for  instance." 

"  My  dear  Christine,"  Mrs.  Ferrars  laughed.  "  We 
women  and  our  ideas  don't  count  on  the  outside  edges  of 
things." 

"  I  mean  to  count,"  said  Christine.  She  glanced  up  at 
Tempest  with  a  spark  of  challenge  in  her  dark  eyes. 
"  Are  sweethearts  and  wives  among  the  deprivations  which 
you  men  of  the  police  can  bear  with  equanimity?  "  she  de- 
manded. 

Tempest  knew  her  for  the  wife  of  a  young  Englishman 
who  had  just  entered  the  Force.  It  was  suspected  that  he 
had  done  it  for  the  sake  of  excitement,  and  that  he  would 
not  stay  in  it  long.  He  smiled  quietly. 

"  You  must  ask  someorie  who  is  better  qualified  to  give 
an  opinion,"  he  said.  "  In  poetical  phraseology  I  happen 
to  be  wedded  to  my  work,  and  so  I  have  all  I  want  of 
life,  you  see." 

The  young  eyes  questioned  his  a  moment  longer,  and  he 
bore  the  look  unflinchingly.  It  was  the  stand  he  meant 
to  take  all  his  life  through  now.  But  he  was  relieved 
when  the  two  women  were  gone.  Good  wine,  and  a  good 
cigar,  and  the  talk  and  voices  of  the  men  of  his  own  class 
were  very  comforting  to  him  after  the  five  strait  years  of 
naked  necessities  only. 

A  little  later  the  name  of  Ducane  came  up.  Tempest 
was  known  to  be  connected  with  the  case,  and  Bolton  asked 
questions. 


408  THE    J.AW-BRINGERS 

"  I  am  working  it  up  here/'  he  said.  "  The  man  is  & 
worm.  He  turned  King's  Evidence  and  told  every  mortal 
thing  he  knew.  So  he's  out  on  bail,  pending  the  arrest 
of  the  others.  We  have  two  of  them,  but  the  rest  have 
disappeared.  Of  course  we'll  get  them,  though  it  may  take 
time.  It  is  going  to  be  quite  a  big  affair,  for  people  have 
been  wanting  to  get  at  the  basis  of  the  Canada  Home-lot 
Extension  Company  for  some  time.  You  knew  Heriot, 
Tempest?  He  was  under  you  at  Grey  Wolf,  wasn't  he?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Bad  luck  for  him  that  he  hadn't  the  chance  to  carry 
this  thing  through.  He  would  probably  have  got  his  step 
over  it.  He's  a  clever  chap,  too.  A  confoundedly  clever 
chap.  But  there's  kink  in  him  somewhere,  to  my  mind.  I 
fancy  he  is  safer  hunting  criminals  along  the  Mackenzie 
than  knocking  around  among  civilised  beings.  Didn't  you 
find  him  hard  to  manage?  " 

"  Not  particularly.  You  said  Ducane  was  out  on  bail. 
Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Gone  back  to  his  wife  at  Grey  Wolf,  I  believe.  Poor 
little  woman,  she'll  need  to  be  good  stuff  to  stand  him. 
And  she  is  good  stuff,  I  know.  One  of  our  oldest  Toronto 
families.  Eh?  Why  yes.  She  did  go  home  for  a  while. 
But  she  came  back  to  Grey  Wolf.  I  happened  to  see  her 
on  Regina  station  the  day  she  passed  through.  She  has 
wonderful  eyes." 

Tempest  assented  absently.  He  wondered  if  Jennifer 
had  gone  back  to  Grey  Wolf  to  take  care  of  Andree.  And 
he  wondered  what  she  was  doing  there  now  with  Ducane. 
Before  the  evening  was  over  he  had  made  his  mind  up 
on  one  point.  He  would  spend  the  two  first  months  of  his 
leave  in  a  fleeting  visit  to  Grey  Wolf.  Jennifer  deserved 
that  of  him.  And,  besides,  she  could  tell  him  so  much 
about  Andree. 

In  the  bachelor  quarters  several  of  the  men  spoke  about 
Tempest  later  on.  Bolton  was  genuinely  troubled. 

"  He's  as  good  a  fellow  as  ever,  of  course,"  he  said. 
"  But  he  looks  as  if  he'd  had  a  knock." 

"  Had  a  knock !  He  looks  as  if  he'd  been  shot  sitting 
and  drilled  clean  through,"  declared  Charteris.  "  I  hope 
his  folk  will  marry  him  off,  down  East.  A  good,  comfort- 


"THE    EPITOME    OF   LIFE"  409 

able,  domesticated  life  is  what  he  wants.     He  should  give 
up  the  Force.     You  can  see  he's  had  enough  of  it." 

But  before  Tempest  went  East  he  presented  himself  one 
warm,  wet  spring  morning  at  the  house  across  the  lake  from 
Grey  Wolf,  and  heard  Jennifer's  cry  of  joy,  and  felt  the 
grasp  of  her  hands  as  she  welcomed  him. 

"  Oh,"  she  said.  "  How  I  wish  you  had  six  hands  to 
shake,  I  can't  tell  you  how  glad  I  am.  And  you  haven't 
got  this  district,  have  you?  That  would  be  too  splendid 
to  be  true." 

"  Yes ;  I'm  afraid  it  would.  I'm  on  leave,  and  I'm 
spending  a  part  of  it  in  hunting  up  my  old  friends."  He 
looked  at  her  intently.  "  I  came  to  see  if  you  needed 
help,"  he  said. 

"  That  is  like  you."  Jennifer's  eyes  met  his  bravely. 
"  You  will  see  Harry  directly,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  talk 
to  you  afterwards.  Here's  mother.  And  mother  and  I 
hunt  through  every  day  for  all  the  fun  we  can  get  out  of  it, 
you  know.  It  makes  life  so  much  more — more  bear- 
able." 

Tempest  understood  completely  why  she  chose  that  epi- 
thet when  Ducane  came  in  to  lunch.  The  fellow  was  a 
wreck  of  the  burly,  blustering  man  whom  Grey  Wolf  had 
once  known.  He  shuffled  in  his  walk,  hanging  his  head. 
The  shadow  of  the  cells  was  on  him,  and  horror  of  the 
future  showed  in  his  shifty  eyes  and  in  his  manner.  He 
alternately  raved  at  Jennifer  and  cajoled  her.  He  cringed 
to  Tempest,  and  when  the  two  men  went  out  under  the 
light  spring  rain  with  their  pipes  he  gave  way  altogether; 
shivering  and  sobbing;  cursing  Dick  and  himself  and  the 
law,  and  imploring  Tempest  to  help  him. 

"  It  would  be  so  hard  on  Jenny  to  have  me  in — in — 
locked  up  again,"  he  whined.  "And  she's  been  a  good 
wife  to  me  always.  I  don't  deserve  it.  I  know  I  don't 
deserve  it.  But  she  knows  I'm  fond  of  her.  She  knows 
it.  Poor  Jenny." 

It  was  a  horrible  exhibition  to  Tempest;  but  he  bore 
with  it  in  patience.  Even  so  little  as  he  could  do  eased 
the  burden  for  those  brave  women  in  the  house.  And, 
for  all  the  fallen  manhood  in  Ducane;  for  all  the  shame- 
ful thing  which  he  had  become,  there  was  still  that  re- 


410  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

deeming  feature  in  him.  He  loved  Jennifer.  After  each 
burst  of  passion  he  came  to  her  like  a  dog,  whimpering 
for  forgiveness.  His  eyes  followed  her  about  the  room, 
and  the  touch  of  her  hand  soothed  him  in  his  sudden  fits 
of  excitement.  Tempest  guessed  that  if  Ducane  were 
parted  from  that  sweet  womanly  strength  on  which  he  fed 
he  would  soon  be  parted  from  life  also.  And  in  his  heart 
he  hoped  that  that  day  might  come  soon. 

On  the  second  night,  when  Ducane,  cross  and  sleepy 
as  a  child,  had  stumbled  off  to  bed,  Jennifer  slid  her  arm 
through  her  mother's. 

"  Mr.  Tempest  is  going  in  the  morning,  little  mother," 
she  said.  "  And  I  have  got  one  or  two  things  to  scold  him 
about  privately.  You  don't  mind,  darling?  I  knew  you 
wouldn't."  Then  when  the  door  was  shut,  she  drew  a  chair 
for  Tempest  up  to  the  fire,  and  sat  down  in  a  corner  of  the 
lounge  where  she  had  said  good-bye  to  Dick. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  Andree,"  she  began  at 
once,  not  looking  at  Tempest.  "  When  I  got  your  letter 
I  came  back  to  look  after  her.  Don't  thank  me.  I  had 
nearly  decided  to  come  anyway.  And  I  was  glad  of  the 
excuse.  I  did  what  I  could."  She  paused  a  moment. 
"  She  cared  for  him  too  much  to  look  at  anyone  else.  And 
then  she  went  North.  I  had  not  heard  of  any  reason 
why  she  should  go  until  Mr.  Heriot  told  me  that  he  had 
been  sent  after  her.  She  did  not  come  to  say  good-bye  to 
me.  I  am  sorry  that  I  failed  to — to  understand  her  better. 
I  did  try.  But  Andree  never  cared  about  women." 

Tempest  sat  back  in  his  chair  for  a  long  while,  staring 
into  the  fire.  At  last  he  said  slowly: 

"  You  saw  Heriot  as  he  came  through  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"And  she  loved  him  still?     As  much  as  ever?" 

Jennifer  felt  her  eyes  fill.  She  knew  how  this  man  had 
loved  Grange's  Andree. 

"  He  seemed  to  have  wakened  her  heart,  and  so  he 
possessed  it.  I  think  they  both  realise  that." 

Tempest  was  silent  again.  His  hand  shaded  his  face, 
but  Jennifer  could  guess  something  of  his  thoughts.  For 
a  little  she  struggled  with  herself,  trying  to  brace  herself 
to  give  him  comfort  which  it  was  going  to  hurt  her  un- 


"THE    EPITOME    OF    LIFE"  411 

speakably  to  give.  She  laid  her  hand  lightly  on  his  knee 
for  a  moment. 

"  You  are  afraid  that  she  will  tempt  him  to — to  forget 
his  work  and  to  run  away  with  her,  or — or  something  of 
that  sort.  He  won't,  Mr.  Tempest.  And  he  won't  be  cruel 
to  her.  I  think  he  will  try  to  treat  her  as  I  would  want 
him  to  treat  her." 

Tempest  looked  up  sharply. 

"  How  do  you  know  that?  " 

"  Because  he  loves  me  and  I  love  him.  And  we  have 
told  each  other  so,"  said  Jennifer  bravely. 

Tempest  stared  at  her,  not  conscious  that  he  was  staring. 

"Is  that  true?"  he  said. 

"  Yes." 

"  My  God !  "  said  Tempest.  He  put  his  hand  up  to  his 

forehead.  "  He — he  has He  looked  away,  stunned 

by  the  revelation.  "  You — you  can't  mean  but  how  could 
he  ever  have " 

"  Each  time  I  sent  him  away  it  maddened  him.  I  can't 
understand.  Perhaps  you  can't,  either.  But —  I  have  had 
to  understand  that  it  did  not  alter  his  feeling  for  me.  I 
could  not  blind  my  eyes  to  that." 

"  But "  he  fell  into  thought  again.  Then  he  seemed 

to  catch  hold  of  his  natural  courtesy.  "  I  did  not  de- 
serve this  nobleness  from  you,"  he  said.  "  I  think  no 
woman  could  have  done  a  more  gracious  act." 

"  I  had  to."  Jennifer  was  speaking  very  low  and  lev- 
elly,  with  her  hands  gripped  tight.  "  I  trust  him,  and  you 
must  trust  him  too." 

"  But — you  said  you  sent  him  away  ?  And  last  time — 
I — I  beg  your  pardon.  I  didn't  mean  to " 

"  This  time  was  different,"  said  Jennifer  steadily.  "  He 
— we  said  more  than  we  had  done  before.  We  knew  that 
— there  could  not  be  anyone  else.  You  see  he  understood 
that  he  had  perhaps  brought  Harry  back  to  me." 

Tempest  shivered.  Beside  this  tragedy  even  his  own 
seemed  to  have  faded.  For  he  did  not  love — he  never  had 
loved  Andree  as  Dick  assuredly  would  love  this  woman. 
The  thought  brought  him  to  his  feet  with  his  pulses  beating 
unevenly  and  his  voice  unsteady. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  to  thank  you  for  telling  me  this. 


412  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

It  explains  so  much.  And  I  had  never  guessed — good 
Heavens!  Why,  I — I — asked  you  to  look  after  Andree 
because " 

"  That  did  not  matter  very  much."  Jennifer  smiled 
faintly.  "  Ke  wrote  to  me  before  he  went  North  with 
you.  Just  a  few  lines,  but  they  made  the  matter  clear. 
I  mean — they  did  not  palliate  it.  He  has  never  tried  to 
do  that  with  anything  in  his  life." 

Tempest  leaned  his  elbows  on  the  mantel-shelf,  pressing 
his  temples  with  his  fingers.  This  man  who  had  lived 
with  him  daily,  for  weeks,  for  months,  for  years,  had  had 
this  in  his  heart  all  the  while. 

"And — and  his  evidence  at  the  trial?"  he  said. 

"  He  did  not  mind  what  people  said  of  himself.  He 
tried  to  make  it  easy  for  me.  And  he  would  not  make 
excuses  for  what  he  had  done  to  me.  He  had  done  it,  and 
he  let  me  know  it.  He — he  used  that  work  as  a  weapon 
to — to  fight  himself  with  in  part.  And — and  he  would 
not  let  me  think  him  better  than  he  was." 

Tempest  nodded.  He  knew  that  love  can  be  as  merciless 
as  hate.  Dick  would  have  Jennifer's  love  and  his  bold 
temper  would  insist  that  he  had  it  in  spite  of  what  she 
knew  of  him. 

"  And  he  knew  that  he  left  you  to — this,"  he  said  slowly. 

Jennifer  did  not  answer.  Memories  were  too  keenly 
sharp.  The  thoughts  of  both  were  with  the  man  some- 
where out  along  the  far  trails  in  the  silence. 

The  fire  fell  together  with  a  crash,  and  Jennifer  looked 
up. 

"  Have  you  forgiven  him  for  what  he  did  to  you  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  I  thought  I  had.  I  know  now  that  I  had  not.  I  can 
guess  a  little  at  what  pain  would  do  to  a  man  of  his  tem- 
perament. If  I  had  only  known — but  he  would  not  tell  me, 
of  course.  He  could  not." 

"But  you  can  forgive  him  now?" 

"  I  have  already  forgiven  him  officially,"  Tempest  smiled 
a  little  bitterly.  "  And  I  can't  cease  to  care  for  him.  I 
don't  know  if  I  shall  ever  feel  the  same  way  towards  him 
again.  He  did  a  great  wrong,  not  to  me,  but  to  her." 

"  No  one  could  have  expected  her  to  care." 


"THE    EPITOME   OF   LIFE"  413 

"  He  knew  his  power  with  women.     I  beg  your  par- 

"  Please  don't.  He  has  been  quite  honest  with  me,  so 
there  is  no  need." 

There  was  silence  again  until  Tempest  straightened 
himself  and  looked  at  her. 

"  You  make  me  ashamed,"  he  said.  "  I  have  seen  your 
gentleness  and  your  care  of  Ducane,  and  now  I  have  seen 
— something  that  I  can't  speak  about.  I  had  thought  we 
men  of  the  Mounted  Police  were  doing  a  great  thing  for 
Canada.  But  perhaps  when  all  is  made  clear  we'll  un- 
derstand that  some  of  the  greatest  things  done  here  have 
been  done  by  the  women.  You^you  still  intend  to  look 
after  him  ?  " 

"  So  long  as  I  can.  If  they  imprison  him  I  shall  get 
rooms  near  the  prison.  He  needs  me." 

"  I  shall  be  in  the  North  later,  as  I  told  you.  But  my 
leave  lasts  four  months  yet,  and  if  you  want  me  during 
that  time  you  know  how  gladly  I  will  come.  And  if  ever 
there  is  anything  I  can  do  and  that  I  can  free  myself  for 
you,  will  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"  I  surely  will."  She  stood  up  and  gave  him  her  hand. 
"  I  hope  I  have  helped  you,  for  your  sympathy  has  helped 
me.  There  are  certain  things  which  one  cannot  fight 
against.  We  have  to  order  our  lives  from  that  standpoint. 
But  there  are  so  many  things  which  we  can.  And,  after 
all,  the  epitome  of  Life  is  battle  and  conquest,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Or  defeat" 

"  There  are  high  defeats  which  are  better  than  low 
conquests/'  said  Jennifer,  and  her  words  stayed  with  him 
when  she  went  away  and  left  him  alone  by  the  dying 
fire. 

Would  not  those  words  of  Jennifer's  apply  to  more  than 
the  abstract  case?  Had  he  not  himself  been  seeking  con- 
quest along  infinitely  lower  lines  than  this  high  defeat 
which  had  overtaken  Jennifer  and  Dick?  Nature  had  in- 
sisted that  he  should  love  Andree  even  as  it  had  insisted 
that  Dick  should  love  Jennifer.  But  must  a  man  always 
accept  Nature's  ordinances  from  end  to  end?  Is  it  not 
against  old  Nature  that  her  sons  and  daughters  have  to  do 
their  fighting  with  conscience  as  the  umpire?  Tempest 


414  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

knew,  as  he  had  known  for  long,  what  must  have  hap- 
pened if  he  had  persuaded  Andree  to  marry  him.  She 
could  have  been  no  helpmate  for  his  soul.  He  could  never 
have  made  her  other  than  she  was.  And  yet  nothing  but 
the  knowledge  that  he  could  not  get  her  had  parted  him 
from  her.  Then  those  things  which  he  used  to  talk  of. 
That  conception  about  the  Norse  Edda:  he  had  believed 
that  he  had  stumbled  on  a  great  truth  there.  But  in  how 
far  had  he  acted  on  it?  Dick  had  frankly  acknowledged 
his  preference  for  Gigungagap.  Tempest  had  talked  of 
the  higher  planes — he  could  remember  now  the  thrill  and 
the  certainty  with  which  he  had  spoken.  Then  were  all 
his  great  dreams,  all  his  aspirations  and  beliefs  dead 
leaves  only;  ropes  of  sand;  dust  that  the  first  wind  of  de- 
sire blew  out  of  existence? 

"  Oh  God !  Not  that !  Not  that !  "  he  cried.  He  had 
surely  struggled.  He  had  schooled  himself,  to  accept  the 
inevitable — when  he  was  very  sure  that  it  was  the  in- 
evitable. He  had  now  lifted  this  love  into  a  sacred  thing 
which  he  could  think  of  without  shame  and  without  passion. 
But  who  had  enabled  him  to  do  this?  Not  his  own 
strength.  Not  his  own  conscience  nor  his  love  for  that 
work  which  he  had  believed  meant  more  to  him  than  any- 
thing else.  It  was  Dick  who  had  thrust  him  back ;  brutally, 
mercilessly,  but  faithfully  into  the  battle.  And  he  could 
not  forgive  and  he  could  not  forget  because  Andree  had 
been  sacrificed  that  this  should  be  accomplished.  And  yet 
he  had  consented  that  Dick  should  sacrifice  Jennifer  for 
his  work's  sake.  He  had  seen  very  clearly  there  how  the 
individual  must  perish  to  further  the  growth  of  the  whole. 
But  where  the  matter  touched  himself;  where  Andree  had 
to  go  that  he  might  give  what  the  years,  what  his  birth 
and  training  and  traditions,  had  made  him  for  the  aid  of 
the  many,  what  had  he  cared  for  his  work  then? 

He  got  up,  walking  through  the  dusky  room  as  Dick  had 
walked  on  the  night  when  he  pleaded  with  Jennifer. 
Through  these  months  Dick  must  have  been  fighting  nearly 
as  stern  a  battle  as  himself.  He  would  suffer  for  what 
Jennifer  might  have  to  undergo  with  Ducane  as  Tempest 
suffered  for  Andree.  But  Dick  had  never  let  his  work  go. 
Wild-hearted,  bitter-minded  unbeliever  though  he  was,  he 


415 

had  held  valiantly  to  his  work,  even  using  it,  as  Jennifer 
had  said,  for  a  sword  against  himself.  He  remembered 
the  cruel  mockery  of  those  sketches  in  the  Grey  Wolf  bunk- 
room.  Dick  had  no  more  to  help  him  through  life  than 
what  they  told.  He  had  nothing  to  hold  to.  What  wonder 
then  if  he  fell?  But  had  he  fallen  any  further  than  Tem- 
pest? Than  Tempest,  who  knew  and  preached  the  right — 
to  others? 

Tempest  went  late  to  his  bed  that  night,  and  when  he 
said  good-bye  to  Jennifer  in  the  morning  his  manner  was 
very  gentle. 

"  I  owe  you  a  very  great  deal,"  he  said.  "  And  I  owe 
Dick  a  very  great  deal."  He  smiled.  "  He  knew  that  be- 
fore I  did,"  he  added.  "  But  perhaps  he  can  bear  to  hear 
it  again." 

He  saw  Bolton  for  a  moment  on  the  Regina  Station  as 
the  train  carried  him  East,  and  the  jovial  Inspector  shook 
his  hand  warmly. 

"  'Pon  my  soul,  you  look  better  already,  old  fellow,"  he 
said.  "  Wait  till  the  pretty  girls  in  Ontario  get  hold  of 
you.  They'll  knock  ten  years  off  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Tempest.  "  I  think  I  don't  want  to 
lose  those  years,  Bolton.  Not  a  blessed  one  of  them." 

His  welcome  at  home  shamed  him  again.  They  were  so 
transparently  joyful  at  his  coming,  and  he  had  wanted 
so  little  to  come.  He  knew  that  all  the  great  issues  of 
his  life  were  bound  up  for  ever  with  the  West:  with  the 
places  where  he  had  suffered  and  lost  and  gained  so  much. 
And  yet  he  found  that  there  was  something  for  him  to  gain 
in  the  old  home.  Some  panacea  which  he  had  needed  and 
which  nothing  else  could  have  given  him.  He  found  it 
in  his  mother's  kiss,  and  in  Betty's  throttling  embraces, 
and  in  Lloyd's  hand-grip.  It  was  Lloyd  who  got  down  to 
the  heart  of  the  matter  at  once,  reading  him  as  a  man 
reads  his  kind. 

"  You  won't  get  old  Neil  to  cut  the  Service  and  settle 
down  over  here,  mother,"  he  said.  "  You  may  trot  out 
your  eligibles  and  stay  him  with  dinner-parties  and  comfort 
him  with  dances  all  you  know — and  it  won't  help  you  worth 
a  cent.  Something  else  has  booked  him,  mother,  and  we're 
going  to  lose  him." 


416  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  Oh,  Lloyd !  You  don't  think  that  any  girl  out 
there— 

"  No.  Or  if  there  was  he's  lost  her.  But  I  noticed  him 
talking  with  Carter  and  Orde  last  night.  It's  Canada 
has  taken  him,  I  guess.  He  means  to  give  himself  to  his 
work,  and  not  to  anything  else." 

Betty  scoffed  at  this  doctrine  and  angled  for  him  with 
all  the  arts  which  she  and  her  friends  could  muster.  In 
the  first  glow  of  her  own  love  she  appealed  to  Tempest 
vividly,  and  he  delighted  to  take  her  about.  She  was  much 
younger  than  himself;  and  she  had  been  a  merry  child 
when  he  was  a  tall  and  studious  boy.  She  was  a  merry 
girl  still,  and  she  brought  the  sweets  of  life  back  to  him  in 
many  ways  through  those  brief  weeks.  Tempest  had  that 
quiet,  interested  courtesy  which  charms  wherever  it  goes; 
but  his  serene  indifference  to  its  effects  roused  Betty's  ire, 
and  one  evening  as  he  smoked  his  cigar  under  the  scented 
limes  she  came  to  him,  running  in  her  white  dress  over  the 
grassy  lawn,  and  walked  up  and  down  with  him.  Her 
hand  was  through  his  arm,  and  she  chattered  to  him  and 
scolded  him,  half  in  mischief,  half  in  real  earnest.  For 
a  while  Tempest  parried  her  thrusts  with  good-natured 
evasion.  Then  he  turned  on  her  slim  finger  the  ring  which 
sparkled  through  the  starlight. 

"  It's  once  and  for  altogether,  Betty  dear  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes."  She  fell  shy  instantly  at  confessing  her 
love. 

"  Even  though  you  lost  him — there  could  never  be  any- 
one else?  " 

"  Never !     Oh,  never !  " 

"  Well — that's  my  answer,  dear,"  he  said  gently. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

"  THE    LONE    PATROL  " 

"  BUT  assuredly  you  will  be  doing  me  the  greatest  of  fa- 
vours," said  Pere  Melisand.  "  You  come  to  me,  figura- 
tively speaking,  as  the  men  used  to  come  to  me  at  Rouen — 
with  strange  stories  in  their  eyes  and  the  smell  of  the  salt 
sea-water  in  their  hair.  I  have  not  seen  the  sea  since  I 
left  France  ten  years  ago.  And  you?  " 

"  I  saw  salt  water  three  months  ago  in  Hudson  Bay." 
Dick  flung  off  his  coat  and  looked  round  him.  "  You 
keep  some  relics  of  France  with  you  still,"  he  added.  "  I 
remember  the  original  of  that  portrait  at  Versailles — and 
surely  the  chair  below  it  is  Louis  Quinze?  " 

"  Genuine.  Yes.  We  have  our  fancies  yet,  though  we 
change  the  skies  over  us.  There  is  an  incantation  in  these 
little  things  to  one  who  remembers." 

Dick  turned  to  look  at  his  host.  Without  the  cassock 
and  tonsure  Pere  Melisand  would  have  had  nothing  to  knit 
him  to  this  little  Roman  Catholic  Mission  at  Vermilion  on 
the  Peace  River.  For  he  had  the  look  of  a  man  of  the  world 
in  his  eyes  and  the  fluency  of  a  scholar  on  his  tongue, 
and  he  welcomed  Dick  to  his  poor  quarters  here  just  as 
he  would  have  welcomed  him  to  some  old  chateau  in  his 
native  France,  with  no  embarrassment  at  all  in  the  con- 
trast. Perhaps  ten  years  had  used  him  to  it,  although  it 
had  not  sapped  the  polish  of  his  manner.  He  smiled  at 
Dick. 

"  I  will  ask  Antoine  to  hasten  dinner,"  he  said.  "  You 
must  be  both  cold  and  hungry.  Travelling  in  a  thaw  is 
difficult  work." 

"  Well,  two  of  my  dogs  knocked  up  rather  badly.  Could 
I  get  more  here  ?  " 

"Vital  Jeudi  might  have  one  or  two.  We  will  see  him 

417 


418  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

in  the  morning.  I  wish  we  had  some  to  spare  at  the 
Mission.  But  if  there  are  any  in  Fort  Vermilion  be 
assured  that  you  shall  have  them  if  possible." 

Dick  watched  him  go,  idly  wondering  what  power  could 
bring  such  a  man  to  waste  himself  among  the  breeds  and 
Indians  of  this  Canadian  outpost.  Religion  seemed  to  him 
such  a  weak  answer.  For  Dick  looked  on  religion  still  as 
many  men  look  on  it,  as  a  refuge  when  life  has  little  left 
to  offer.  And  Pere  Melisand's  eyes  told  that  such  a  rea- 
son was  untrue  here. 

"  But  it  may  occasionally  be  a  refuge  when  life  has  too 
much  to  offer,"  he  told  himself,  and  throughout  the  simple 
dinner  he  watched  Pere  Melisand  in  that  interpretation. 

The  man  could  talk.  He  showed  deep  and  wise  inter- 
est in  many  things,  and  more  than  once  his  eyes  lit  to  a 
fire  that  accorded  ill  with  the  meek  tonsure.  He  did  not 
smoke;  but  he  gave  Dick  a  good  cigar,  and  he  brought  out 
a  bottle  of  wine  which  gave  a  rakish  air  of  conviviality 
to  the  evening  which  appealed  to  Dick's  humour.  It  was 
over  the  walnuts  which  Pere  Melisand  cracked  with  an 
old-fashioned  silver  crackers  that  Dick  broached  the  busi- 
ness which  had  brought  him  to  Vermilion  through  the  wet 
dangerous  drifts  where  the  early  Chinooks  blew  warm,  and 
Pere  Melisand  leaned  back,  caressing  his  chin. 

"  Ah,  that  I  cannot  tell  you,"  he  said.  "  Soeur  Narcisse 
and  Soeur  Madeleine  came  in  while  I  was  at  Battle  River. 
There  was  no  girl  answering  to  your  description  in  Ver- 
milion when  I  came  back.  She  must  have  gone  further." 

"  Then  might  I  be  allowed  the  honour  of  a  few  minutes' 
conversation  with  one  of  the  ladies  you  mention?" 

"  Assuredly."  Pere  Melisand's  fine  lips  drew  into  a 
smile.  "And  why  not?" 

"If  you  have  no  reason  I  shall  certainly  not  supply 
one,"  Dick  smiled  back.  "  It  is  very  necessary  for  me  to 
find  her,"  he  explained.  "  I'm  a  wanderer  until  I  do." 

"May  I  ask  what  she  is  wanted  for?" 

"Murder  in  the  first  degree.  And — as  an  anti-climax — 
perjury." 

"  Ah !  "  Pere  Melisand  shuddered.  "  Poor  thing.  And 
yours  is  a  hard  life,  my  friend,  when  it  sends  you  out  on 
such  errands." 


"THE    LONE    PATROL"  419 

"  A  man  must  live — even,  or  shall  I  say,  usually — at  the 
expense  of  others.  And  if  he  cannot  wipe  out  his  own 
crimes  he  is  surely  doing  well  in  assisting  others  to  wipe 
out  theirs." 

Pere  Melisand  shook  his  head,  with  the  smile  still  lin- 
gering. 

"  Well — there  is  always  the  untamed  thing  that  runs 
clamouring  through  our  blood.  There  will  be  the  doer  of 
crimes,  and  the  executor  of  crimes  so  long  as  this  old 
world  lasts.  And  in  the  next  we  may  have  to  sheet  those 
very  crimes  home  to  the  opposite  shoulders  and  begin  all 
over  again.  But  do  not  speak  of  this  to  Soeur  Narcisse 
in  the  morning.  I  think  you  shall  see  Soeur  Narcisse." 

"  She  is  perhaps  not  young  enough  to  be  fluttered  at  the 
sight  of — shall  we  say — divided  skirts  ?  "  suggested  Dick. 

Pere  Melisand  shook  his  head  again. 

"  Be  careful,"  he  said.  "  I  learnt  well  that  a  light 
tongue  seldom  means  a  light  heart."  He  cracked  another 
nut.  "  You  deserved  that,  and  you  do  not  deserve  to  see 
Soeur  Narcisse.  But  you  shall  see  her.  And  speak  to  her 
of  Ouchy  if  you  can.  She  comes  from  Ouchy,  and  we 
French  love  our  country." 

"  Which  is,  I  imagine,  the  reason  why  you  leave  it.  A 
thing  denied  has  its  value  enhanced,  and  the  wisdom  of 
the  French  in  matters  of  love  is  fully  acknowledged  all  the 
world  over." 

Pere  Melisand  laughed,  settling  his  shoulders  in  the  tall 
chair. 

"  Come,"  he  said.  "  Tell  me  what  you  know  about 
France.  We  will  leave  your  opinions  on  love  to  explain 
themselves.  And  talk  French.  You  never  learnt  your 
wisdom  in  any  language  but  ours." 

Dick's  answering  smile  did  not  show  in  his  eyes.  Pere 
Melisand  guessed  that  there  had  been  no  smile  there  for 
long.  That  did  not  surprise  him,  for  he  knew  much  of 
the  lives  of  the  wandering  men;  but  the  pity  on  Dick's 
face  when  he  saw  Soeur  Narcisse  next  morning  did.  The 
soft-eyed,  shy  young  nun  with  the  strange,  delicate  bloom 
which  stirs  a  man's  heart  glowed  with  excitement  when 
Dick's  question  called  her  eyes  up  to  his  face. 

"Mais  oui,"  she  cried.     "Is  it  that  I  could  forget  An- 


420  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

dree?  Why — that  voyage  was  so  much  of  delight — so 
much  of  the  new." 

Over  her  head  the  men  smiled.  This  which  was  stag- 
nation to  the  man  who  had  lived  was  life  itself  to  little 
Soeur  Narcisse. 

"  Ah !  She  was  si  belle !  Si  grande !  Et  si  triste.  Elle 
me  baise  quand  she  say  adieu.  And  moi,  I  was  for  her 
so  sorry." 

"  Andree  kissed  you !  "  Dick  was  curiously  upset  at 
this,  for  he  knew  Andree's  utter  indifference  to  women. 

"  Then  you  can't  tell  me  where  she  went?  "  he  asked. 

"  To  Chipewyan.  But  beyond  that  I  do  not  know. 
There  were  many  Indians  on  rafts.  We  begged  of  her — 
stay;  be  one  of  us.  Mais  elle  n'en  peut.  Elle  dit  il  y  a 
le  vent  aux  cheveux.  I  do  not  understand,  moi.  Perhap 
she  jeter  la  plume  au  vent." 

"  Perhaps/'  said  Dick.  But  he  shivered  a  little.  Would 
the  death  which  he  was  bringing  her  ever  so  still  Grange's 
Andree  that  she  could  not  feel  the  wind  of  Life  in  her 
hair  ? 

He  looked  at  Pere  Melisand  when  the  two  went  out  to 
the  sun  again.  "  Didn't  young  Macrae  of  a  Survey  Party 
once  try  to  carry  off  a  nun  from  one  of  these  places?  " 
he  asked.  "  You'd  best  look  after  Soeur  Narcisse,  sir. 
Men  are  men  still.  And  she  is  meant  to  make  some  man 
happy." 

"  Because  you  have  no  religion  you  do  not  recognise 
your  impiety,"  said  Pere  Melisand  composedly.  "  Exist- 
ence means  more  than  earthly  happiness." 

"  My  soul!  D'you  think  I  don't  know  that?"  said  Dick 
with  a  sudden  flash.  And  through  the  long  day's  sleighing 
when  the  threatening  squish  of  the  packing  mush-ice  took 
the  place  of  the  clean  burring  hum  of  the  runners,  and  the 
wind  blew  warm  on  his  cheek,  he  remembered  grimly  what 
good  cause  he  had  to  know  it. 

He  dreaded  this  lone  patrol  as  he  never  had  dreaded  one 
before.  That  night  with  Jennifer  seemed  to  have  slacked 
his  physical  and  mental  muscles.  He  had  been  knocked 
out  in  a  fight  for  the  thing  he  most  wanted;  knocked  out 
completely,  without  a  hope  of  return,  and  he  could  not 
forget  it.  There  was  no  pride  in  him  because  he  had  not 


"THE    LONE    PATROL"  421 

betrayed  his  work.  A  woman,  a  girl  with  shaking  hands 
and  the  exhaustion  of  utter  grief  on  her,  had  beaten  him; 
had  broken  his  will,  and  stripped  his  defiance  from  him, 
and  sent  him  away.  And  he  had  gone.  He  could  not 
discover  why  he  had  gone,  and  why  he  knew  that  he  could 
not  go  back.  He  knew  only  that  Jennifer's  will  was  not 
equal  to  the  steel  of  his  will,  and  that  therefore  it  was  a 
power  behind  and  beyond  her  which  had  struck  at  him 
through  her.  He  had  refused  to  acknowledge  or  obey  that 
Power.  But  he  had  been  forced  to  acknowledge  it  on 
Beverley  Lake,  and  now  he  was  forced  to  obey  it.  And 
this  galled  him  and  enraged  him,  and  poisoned  the  call  of 
the  North  in  him,  day  by  day. 

Though  near  the  verge  of  breaking,  the  ice  held  still 
when  he  drove  into  Chipewyan  some  days  later.  But  the 
long,  straight-laid  street  was  dirty  with  trampled  mush 
and  noisy  with  much  shouting  of  men  and  snapping  of 
the  long  caribou-gut  whips  and  the  fighting  of  loosened 
dog  packs.  The  fur-hunters  of  the  North  were  bringing 
their  winter's  yield  into  the  big  Hudson  Bay  sheds  at  old 
Chipewyan,  and  there  was  no  one  in  the  settlement  who 
did  not  know  it.  To-day  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  was 
king  of  the  North  as  it  was  in  the  golden  days  of  its 
reign,  nearly  three  hundred  years  ago.  From  out  of  un- 
numbered solitary  places  the  trappers  came  to  do  honour 
to  it;  deep-eyed,  alert  men,  with  that  hip-rolling  walk 
which  is  born  of  the  snow-shoe  and  those  sudden  spurts 
into  ungoverned  merriment  which  are  in  the  blood  of  the 
French-Indian  breed. 

Dick  left  his  team  at  the  barracks  and  walked  down  to 
the  Hudson  Bay  Store.  Forsyth  was  away  until  the  even- 
ing, and  Dick  was  glad.  He  had  no  desire  to  answer  all 
the  questions  which  Forsyth  would  ask,  although  he  had 
one  arrow  ready  sharpened  for  the  complacent  Sergeant. 
Here  were  men  from  the  Barren  Grounds  with  their  fierce 
little  Eskimo  teams  pulling  sleds  piled  with  musk-ox  and 
caribou-skins.  Here  was  a  hollow-cheeked  Indian  with 
his  mangy  mongrels  staggering  under  the  weight  of  a  half- 
filled  little  sled  of  wolverine  and  mink  and  fox.  A  French- 
Canadian  flogged  his  big-footed,  long-legged  Mackenzie 
hounds  past  at  a  gallop;  halted  them  with  many  screams 


422  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

and  French  curses,  and  sprang  in  among  them  with  his 
dog-whip  as  the  loafing  pack  of  huskies,  mongrels  and 
malemutes  fell  on  them  in  that  close,  grim  welcome  which 
means  all  the  blood  and  death  their  masters  will 
allow. 

Dick  watched  the  man  in  the  midst  of  them  with  appre- 
ciative interest.  He  had  all  the  spring  and  the  verve  and 
the  diabolical  absence  of  fear  which  belongs  to  the  best 
class  of  trapper,  and  his  rakish  clothes,  his  earrings,  and 
the  gay  trappings  of  his  sled  proclaimed  him  as  one  of 
the  dandies  of  the  North.  He  freed  his  team  at  last;  un- 
harnessed them,  and  let  them  go  back  to  their  battle. 

"  Que  voulez-vous !  "  he  said,  shrugging  his  shoulders  as 
he  caught  Dick's  eye.  "  They  will  have  it." 

"  There  are  more  than  the  giddes  will  have  it  at  times, 
eh?"  said  Dick. 

"  Dame,"  said  the  Frenchman,  and  laughed  with  his 
black  eyes  snapping.  "  It  is  a  true  word,  that." 

Outside  the  Store  a  team  of  Labrador  dogs  lay  in  the 
lines.  They  were  motionless ;  but  the  prick  of  their  ears 
and  the  occasional  snarl  baring  the  white  teeth  told  their 
nature.  Death  was  the  one  foe  to  whom  the  dogs  of  the 
Labrador  consented  to  strike  their  flag.  The  office  at  the 
end  of  the  Store  was  packed  with  men.  The  approaches 
to  the  sheds  were  a  tangle  of  emptying  sleds  and  quarrel- 
ling dogs;  of  Indians  and  breeds  and  Frenchmen,  and  an 
occasional  whiter-skinned  man  of  the  South.  Dick  passed 
them  by  to  the  tepees  already  rising  like  a  little  forest 
along  the  outskirts.  For  many  of  the  trappers  yearly  take 
their  families  to  the  woods  and  the  home  of  those  families 
is  wherever  the  tepee  rises. 

It  was  here  that  Dick  hoped  to  glean  some  information 
concerning  Andree.  If  she  had  gone  to  Chipewyan  with 
the  Indians  she  had  possibly  gone  to  the  woods  with  them 
too.  He  did  not  believe  that  she  would  come  back  to 
Chipewyan.  The  cunning  of  the  forest  was  in  her  as  it 
was  in  himself.  But  he  might  get  a  clue.  He  lifted  the 
flap  of  the  first  tepee  and  looked  in.  It  was  dark  after 
the  glare  of  the  sun,  and  a  strong  smell  of  musk  from 
the  musk-robes  pervaded  it.  Something  chuckled  out  of 
the  dark  as  a  child  chuckles  over  the  thing  it  plays  with; 


"THE    LONE    PATROL"  423 

and  Dick  went  on  his  knee  as  his  eyesight  cleared  and 
looked  into  the  sunny  eyes  of  a  white  baby  rolling  on  the 
musk-ox  robes.  She  was  two  years  old,  perhaps,  and  she 
snatched  at  his  face  with  round  dimpled  hands,  cooing  and 
kicking  her  feet  in  delight.  Indian  rags  were  wrapped 
round  her,  and  her  yellow  hair  was  cut  across  the  fore- 
head, Indian-fashion.  Then  the  tepee-entrance  was  dark- 
ened by  the  broad  bulk  of  an  «ld  breed  woman,  and  Dick 
sat  back  on  his  heels  and  asked  questions. 

"  Aha !  "  said  the  old  breed.  "  She  belong  to  Alphonse 
Michu.  Him  wife  die  and  him  go  to  the  trapping  and 
take  the  baby.  I  have  her  sometimes.  And  the  other 
women  they  do  have  her  sometimes.  She  quite  pretty 
baby." 

"  Is  Alphonse  Michu  here?  " 

The  old  breed  nodded,  and  Dick  went  out,  strangely 
moved.  From  something  such  as  this  had  Grange's  An- 
dree  come,  and  well  enough  he  knew  what  it  had  made 
of  her.  He  remembered  Tempest's  talk  at  Churchill  about 
the  responsibilities  of  the  white  man;  but  it  was  not  that 
alone  which  sent  him  in  search  of  Alphonse  Michu.  A 
great  and  overwhelming  pity  for  helpless  childhood  and 
girlhood  possessed  him  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and 
he  acted  in  obedience  to  it. 

But  he  could  do  not  anything  at  all  with  Alphonse 
Michu.  The  French  Canadian  loved  his  baby  passionately, 
and  perhaps,  in  his  superstitious  heart,  he  regarded  her  as 
a  fetish.  Dick's  determined  efforts  brought  the  anger 
into  his  voice  and  his  long  pale  face.  But  they  could  do 
no  more,  and  he  left  the  man  with  a  prayer  in  his  heart. 

"  The  Lord  send  she  doesn't  turn  out  as  pretty  as 
Grange's  Andree,"  he  said. 

On  the  slope  to  the  barracks  he  overtook  a  breed  with  a 
husky  team  which  hauled  a  heavily-laden  sled.  He  stopped 
with  that  intuition  which  never  failed  him  where  faces  and 
names  were  concerned. 

"  Why,  Tommy  Joseph,"  he  said.  "  What  are  you  taking 
your  catch  to  the  barracks  for?  " 

"Wolves,"  said  Tommy  Joseph,  raising  his  gaunt  face 
for  a  moment.  Dick  glanced  from  the  lean,  dark  man 
to  the  huskies  where  the  blood  of  their  wolf-progenitors 


424  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

still  ran  savagely.     And  he  felt  the  same  untamed  pulse- 
throb  in  Tommy  Joseph. 

"  Well,  you  ought  to  know  all  about  'em/'  he  said. 
"  And  you've  had  good  luck,  I  see.  We're  paying  twenty 
dollars  a  pelt  this  year." 

Tommy  Joseph  glanced  up  with  quick  fire  in  his  eyes. 
"  There  is  no  good  luck  and  no  bad  luck.  It  is  fate/'  he 
said  in  French;  and  Dick  suddenly  remembered  the  story 
of  Florestine. 

"  Well,  perhaps  you're  right.  Tommy,  have  you  seen 
Grange's  Andree  lately?  She  came  up  to  Chipewyan  last 
fall." 

"  Laissez,"  said  Tommy  sharply,  and  kicked  at  his  fid- 
geting dogs.  "  Was  it  Andree  ?  Certainement.  I  did  see 
her  last  in  Grey  Wolf.  It  is  two  years  since." 

He  proceeded  to  fill  his  pipe  with  an  indifference  which 
proved  his  words  lies  to  Dick.  But  Dick  never  showed 
his  hand.  He  gave  Tommy  good-bye  amiably  and  went  to. 
Forsyth.  Forsyth  had  seen  Andree,  and,  what  was  more 
unlikely,  he  remembered  the  circumstance  perfectly  and 
described  it  with  much  detail. 

"  That  bunch  went  on  towards  the  Rocher,"  he  ended. 
"  Rafting  along  the  Slave  to  Resolution,  I  guess.  I  didn't 
take  much  stock  of  'em." 

Forsyth  never  took  much  stock  of  anything.  Dick 
nodded.  "  All  right.  I'll  try  to  make  Resolution  before 
the  ice  goes  out.  Might  as  well  be  hung  up  there  as  any- 
where else,"  he  said. 

Dick  stood  long  at  his  window  that  night,  looking  over 
the  Lake,  where  through  nearly  three  hundred  years,  had 
plied  the  little  canoe-patrol  between  old  Chipewyan  and 
Montreal.  A  grim,  lonely  patrol,  put  through  by  those 
wild-hearted  men,  gay-eyed  and  daring,  quick  in  murder, 
in  love  and  laughter.  They  called  to  their  descendant, 
those  pioneers  with  their  silken  sashes  and  their  slender, 
strong  wrists  whence  the  ruffles  had  been  ripped  away 
when  Prince  Rupert's  gentlemen  girded  themselves  for  that 
first  fight  with  Canada.  They  called  across  the  treading 
years  which  had  blotted  out  so  much  of  romance,  so  much 
of  horror,  so  much  of  gallant  endurance,  so  much  of  glad- 
ness and  passionate  grief.  And  for  long  Dick  listened, 


"THE    LONE    PATROL"  425 

with  fire  smouldering  in  his  eyes  and  his  breath  coming 
fast  through  his  thin  nostrils. 

In  the  tepee  camp  arose  suddenly  the  deep  baying  of 
hounds;  the  sharp  yelps  and  strong-throated  snarls  which 
told  where  the  still  lawless  spirits  of  the  North  gave  battle. 
Shrill  French  screams  and  curses  cut  as  suddenly  into 
the  noise,  mingled  with  the  hissing  of  the  long  caribou- 
whips.  The  roar  died  to  a  mutter  of  growling;  to  silence, 
and  Dick  went  to  bed,  remembering  the  words  of  the 
breed-dandy,  "  They  will  have  it,"  and  half-envious  of  the 
giddes  because  he  knew  that  within  the  hour  they  would 
have  it  again. 

He  crossed  the  Lake  next  morning  with  little  Jack 
Lowndes'  kisses  on  his  lips,  and  still  something  of  the  hot 
vigour  of  those  long-dead  men  possessing  him.  And  this 
mood  held  with  him  merrily  through  the  daily  danger  that 
threatened  him.  For  the  Chinook  blew,  day  after  day; 
and  hour  after  hour  the  ice  moaned  and  creaked,  surren- 
dering to  its  persistence.  A  policeman  outside  the  barracks 
at  Smith's  Landing  waved  a  hand  to  him  as  he  swung 
past  one  evening,  for  he  could  travel  now  only  in  the  frosty 
hours. 

"  Good  luck  to  your  hunting,"  he  shouted ;  and  then  he 
too  was  gone,  and  only  the  soft  sputtering  of  the  mush  ice 
on  the  runners  broke  the  silence  of  the  world. 

All  Dick's  will  was  bent  on  reaching  Fort  Resolution 
before  his  hold-up  came,  and  he  did  it,  with  the  threat 
ever  on  his  heels  and  the  first  great  cannon-like  reports 
and  thundering  groans  of  the  bursting  heavy  mass  to  keep 
him  awake  on  the  second  night  after  he  reached  the  Lake. 

It  was  from  Resolution  that  the  real  tracking  of  Andree 
would  begin.  So  far  there  had  been  the  one  road  only 
for  her;  but  on  the  Great  Slave  Lake  there  were  so  many 
trails,  and  he  might  have  to  draw  a  half-dozen  covers 
before  he  marked  her  down.  There  was  the  Fullerton  trail 
which  he  and  Tempest  had  taken,  with  its  medley  of  inter- 
secting lakes.  There  was  the  trail  direct  north  to  the 
Great  Bear  Lake  where  long-dead  Hudson  Bay  posts  hold 
yet  glamouring  traditions  of  bullet-riddled  palisades,  and 
mahogany  furniture;  of  the  grim  kings  of  the  Company 
and  the  dare-devil  men  with  bright  handkerchiefs  bound 


426  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

round  their  brows.  There  was  the  Coppermine  River  trail 
to  the  Dismal  Lakes  on  the  rim  of  the  Arctic  Ocean,  or 
there  was  the  great  Mackenzie  route  to  the  Yukon  and  to 
Herschel  Island.  Dick  weighed  the  chances  of  each  with 
all  cunning  and  knowledge.  He  believed  that  Andree 
would  go  down  the  Mackenzie;  for,  wild  creature  of  the 
forest  though  she  was,  she  had  never  loved  loneliness  nor 
the  Indian. .  Her  ways  had  lain  among  the  white  men, 
and  her  vanity  and  love  of  excitement  would  keep  them 
there.  The  ice  was  breaking  on  the  Great  Slave  Lake 
when  Dick  reached  it,  and  in  a  little  while  the  birch  canoes 
shot  across  the  long  blue  run  of  it.  Dick  was  to  do  much 
paddling  there  before  he  came  upon  the  trail  of  Grange's 
Andree.  He  was  to  know  well  the  mouse-grey  evenings 
when  the  sea-birds  and  loons  flew  low,  calling  stridently. 
He  was  to  see  the  prairies  yellow  as  the  snow  passed  and 
the  pale  feathers  of  birch  and  poplar  blow  against  the  in- 
digo of  the  fir-forests.  He  was  to  seek  the  camp  of  many  a 
breed  and  Indian  along  the  shores,  remembering  past  his- 
tory, and  making,  in  his  dull  khaki  and  his  untiring  deter- 
mination, his  small  indelible  share  of  the  new. 

Very  familiar  now  were  the  names  of  those  long-dead 
forts  which  Sir  John  Franklin  had  set  up  all  across  this 
wild  land.  Enterprise,  Reliance,  Providence,  Confidence, 
Good  Hope  and  Resolution.  The  courage  of  the  bluff  old 
sailor  and  his  strong-hearted  men  rang  in  the  words  yet; 
beacon-lights  for  the  men  who  come  after  them. 

One  night  the  smell  of  a  spruce  camp-fire  called  him 
into  a  bight  where  the  thick  trees  came  to  the  water-lip.  A 
score  of  trappers  lay  round  the  fire  with  the  fierce  resinous 
glow  of  it  in  their  faces,  and  Dick  saw  there  that  look 
of  deep  content  which  belongs  only  to  the  people  of  the 
North  in  their  own  stamping-grounds.  He  went  ashore, 
and  stayed  the  night  there.  And  when  he  paddled  back 
to  Resolution  he  knew  that  Grange's  Andree  was  flying 
from  what  he  was  bringing  her  to  the  great  silence  of  the 
Mackenzie  River. 

Next  day  he  packed  his  kit  and  followed  her.  He  fol- 
lowed while  the  brief  summer  glowed  to  the  full  and  faded ; 
while  the  anemones  and  fragile  snow-flowers  gave  place  to 
fireweed  that  glowed  in  all  the  glory  of  a  Scotch  heather 


"THE    LONE    PATROL"  427 

hill.  Tall  mauve  asters  swayed  by  the  banks,  and  the 
shining  ranks  of  the  golden-rod  lit  up  the  hillsides  where 
the  black  crows  flapped  low  and  heavily  and  the  wild  bird 
calls  thrilled,  thin  and  far,  through  the  dry  tang  of  the 
pine-forests.  At  Fort  Simpson  the  barley  in  the  Mission 
fields  was  swelling  with  the  milk  in  it,  and  all  the  pota- 
toes were  in  flower.  Dick  stayed  here  some  days ;  seeing 
the  Sisters  of  Charity  working  in  the  garden-patches,  and 
questioning  the  many  breeds  and  Indians  who  drift  through 
the  post  from  the  Liard  River  and  across  to  Lac  la  Marte. 
Here  the  Hudson  Bay  Store  stood  in  the  strongly-palisaded 
enclosure  which  had  been  common  to  all  of  old,  and  the 
hot  sun  warmed  its  weather-beaten  flanks  and  struck  colour 
from  rock  and  sweeping  prairie.  Then  the  excitement  of 
separating  two  drunken  Hare  Indians  one  night  took  him 
to  the  Hudson  Bay  factor  with  a  question. 

"  Well,  you  know  what  it  is,"  said  the  factor,  and 
laughed.  "  Men  will  drink  something.  They  make  this 
abominable  stuff  themselves  of  hops  and  yeast  and  dried 
fruit  and  sugar.  The  smell  nearly  kills  a  chap  dead.  But 
it  serves  its  purpose.  You  might  let  Macpherson  know 
about  it." 

Dick  assented.  Two  little  detachments  patrolled  the 
whole  of  this  Mackenzie  River  district  as  best  they  might, 
and  they  would  infallibly  bring  the  weight  of  law  into 
Simpson  some  day  before  long. 

The  old  stars  were  dying  down  the  sky  behind  him  now, 
and  new  ones  rode  in  an  unfamiliar  sky.  Already  there 
was  a  riot  of  coloured  leaves  on  the  wild-rose  bushes  and 
the  tall,  slight  saskatoons,  and  down  by-ways  the  pea-vines 
were  taking  colour  and  fireweed  leaves  blazed  red  and 
orange.  Near  Fort  Norman  he  met  a  canoe  with  a  con- 
stable and  a  Hare  Indian,  paddling  upstream  with  the  sun 
in  their  eyes.  Dick  gave  a  greeting,  and  the  Constable 
swung  alongside. 

"  Come  and  tiffin  with  me,"  he  said.  "  It's  about  time." 
And  on  the  bank  of  the  Macken/ie  the  two  ate  badly-cooked 
damper  and  tinned  beans  and  freshly-caught  fish  with 
more  appetite  than  they  once  had  eaten  in  London 
hotels. 

The  Constable  used  the  speech  of  Eton  and  Oxford,  and 


428  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

he  had  never  learnt  his  drill  at  Regina.  But  all  his  hard- 
bitten, genial  face  showed  contentment,  and  Dick  recog- 
nised him  as  one  of  those  throw-backs  to  the  restless  days 
which  bred  Raleigh  and  Drake  and  so  many  more.  He 
had  caught  his  man  near  Fort  Macpherson,  and  two  thou- 
sand miles  of  lonely  country  and  a  desperate  furtive  In- 
dian stood  between  him  and  civilisation.  But  he  said  good- 
bye to  Dick  with  a  hearty  grip  and  laughing  eyes. 

"  Good  fortune  to  you,"  he  said.  "  At  what  end  of  the 
earth  will  we  meet  next  ?  " 

At  Little  Fort  Norman  in  the  Great  Bear  Lake  district 
there  was  no  word  of  Andree.  Dick  did  not  expect  it, 
and  he  turned  from  the  English  Mission  house  to  his  long, 
silent  trail  again  with  certainty  growing  in  him.  Andree 
was  seeking  the  white  life.  If  she  had  wanted  to  hide 
among  the  Indians  she  would  not  have  come  so  far  north 
as  this.  The  creatures  of  the  wild  were  all  about  him 
as  he  made  his  night-camps  now.  The  short-necked  moose 
thumping  down  on  their  knees  to  nibble  grass  in  the  open 
places;  black  bear  snuffing  down  the  hole  of  rabbit  or 
musquash ;  wolves  yowling  on  some  edge  of  forest  at  the 
moon ;  marten,  wolverine ;  fierce,  tuft-eared  lynx.  He  saw 
the  spores  of  all  and  heard  their  cries.  At  the  occasional 
Indian  camps  among  the  white  birches  and  the  deep  spruces 
he  went  ashore,  struggling  in  the  little  Chipewyan  that  he 
knew  to  make  interpretation  to  these  Slave  and  Dog-Rib 
Tribes. 

Where  the  big  Mission  churches  and  schools,  the  trading- 
posts  and  log-houses  of  Fort  Good  Hooe  stood  above  its 
tall  ramparts  of  clay  banks,  Dick  sought  the  Hudson  Bay 
factor.  He  slept  that  night  between  lavender-scented 
sheets  with  the  memory  of  Grieg,  played  well  by  the  fac- 
tor's wife,  in  his  ears.  There  had  been  silver  on  the  table, 
too,  and  cut  glass,  and  the  rim  of  the  Arctic  Circle  was 
fourteen  miles  away.  Dick  left  Good  Hope  reluctantly. 
The  two  hundred  odd  miles  separating  him  from  the  next 
post  promised  so  much  of  that  solitude  which  he  was  daily 
finding  more  terrible. 

There  was  frost  in  the  red  mornings,  and  the  yellow 
evenings  when  he  reached  Arctic  Red  River,  and  on  the 
little  lagoons,  where  the  duck  were  gathering  to  take  flight, 


"THE    LONE    PATROL"  429 

ice  crisped  sometimes  as  he  drove  his  canoe  in  among  the 
reeds  to  shoot  mallard  or  merganser  for  his  supper.  The 
days  were  shortening  rapidly ;  but  wild-flowers  still  bloomed 
among  the  grasses  when  he  left  the  Mackenzie  and  turned 
op  the  Peel  River  to  Fort  Macpherson.  Two  days  before 
he  had  found  a  drowned  Indian  caught  in  a  snag  and  had 
towed  him  ashore  and  buried  him.  For  a  moment  he  had 
stood  by  the  shallow  grave  scooped  in  the  sand  and  stared 
down  on  the  dead  face  before  he  covered  it  with  an  aching 
desire  to  know  what  was  the  use  of  it  all ;  of  all  the  short, 
sharp  days  of  man's  life  that  pass  so  swiftly;  of  all  the 
long  eternities  of  nothingness  that  come  after. 

His  first  evening  at  Macpherson  gave  him  more  comfort 
than  he  had  known  for  many  days.  In  Corporal  Hensham's 
little  warm  private  room,  with  the  big  black  stove-pipe 
running  through  it,  he  smoked  pipe  after  pipe  among  the 
pictures  on  the  walls  and  the  well-worn  books  on  the 
shelves.  Dumb-bells  and  Indian  clubs  filled  the  corners, 
for  Hensham  was  an  athletic  and  enthusiastic  Canadian 
with  all  the  energy  of  youth  in  him  yet. 

"  I'm  off  on  a  mountain  patrol  the  end  of  the  week,"  he 
said ;  "  but  I  can  take  you  out  to  the  Fishing  Lakes  to- 
morrow, and  you'll  likely  get  some  information  there.  The 
Indians  are  thick  around  it,  getting  their  fish  out  before 
the  ice.  They  are  principally  Loucheux ;  a  very  decent  lot, 
and  I  can  let  you  have  an  interpreter.  What's  the  girl 
like?  Nearly  white,  you  say." 

Dick  reached  a  sheet  of  brown,  wrapping  paper  from 
under  the  table,  and  picked  up  a  bit  of  chalk  which  Hen- 
sham  had  been  using,  to  keep  a  quoit  tally  with. 

"I'll  try  to  give  you  some  idea,"  he  said;  and  rapidly 
roughed  in  the  tall,  breezy  outline,  the  curve  of  the  cheek 
and  chin,  and  the  carriage  of  the  small  curly  head.  It 
moved  him  more  than  he  cared  to  allow  as  Grange's  An- 
dree  sprang  into  life  under  his  hand,  and  he  tossed  the 
sheet  across  to  Hensham  in  sudden  irritation. 

"  That  is  an  amateur  attempt,"  he  said  dryly.  "  Her 
Maker  has  done  the  thing  rather  better." 

"  Oh,  I  say !  "  Hensham  was  startled.  "  Why ;  she's  a 
beauty.  And  you're  a  don  at  this  kind  of  a  thing  all  right. 
You'll  let  me  have  it  for  my  gallery,  won't  you?  Thanks. 


430  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Seems  a  brutal  thing  to  have  to  corral  a  girl  like  that. 
You  must  have  known  her  pretty  well,  too." 

"  I  have  seen  her  several  times.  You  have  a  young 
Grahame  here,  haven't  you?  I  came  down  as  far  as  Chip- 
ewyan  with  him  two  years  ago." 

"  Oh,  I  say.  Didn't  you  hear  about  that  ?  We  were 
all  awfully  cut  up.  He  got  lost  last  winter.  Hunting  a 
Loucheux  who'd  deserted  his  family,  you  know.  And  there 
was  a  blizzard,  and — well,  it  was  starvation,  I  guess,  unless 
the  wolves  got  him  first.  We  came  across  his  bones  in  the 
spring.  They  were  stripped  clean.  There  were  a  few  lines 
in  his  pocket-book — they  hadn't  touched  that.  "  I've  done 
my  best,"  he  said,  and  I  guess  he  cashed  in  over  trying 
to  get  down  something  about  "  Tell  somebody  something." 
we  couldn't  read  that.  I  sent  his  dunnage  out  by  the 
steamer  for  the  Commissioner  to  forward  back  to  his 
people.  He  came  of  good  stock,  you  know.  I've  seen 
the  photographs  of  his  folk  and  his  home  in  Scotland." 

Dick  remembered  how  sure  he  had  been  of  the  baronet 
father;  and  he  guessed  that  the  pocket-book  would  go  into 
the  family  shrine  along  with  perhaps  a  rutsy  claymore 
worn  at  Flodden,  or  a  sword  broken  under  Montrose. 

"  Did  he  ever  shoot  a  bear  ?  "  he  asked  suddenly. 

"  Why — was  it  Grahame  or — yes,  he  did.  The  first  win- 
ter he  was  here." 

Dick's  lips  curved  on  his  pipe-stem  into  a  smile.  He 
had  not  forgotten  the  lad's  eager  words  on  the  Atha- 
baska,  and  somehow  he  felt  curiously  pleased  that  young 
Grahame  had  shot  his  bear. 

Hensham  had  a  couple  of  gaily-ornamented  birch  ca- 
noes ready  at  day-break,  with  a  Loucheux  Indian  of  pro- 
nounced Japanese  type  squatted  in  the  stern  of  each. 

"  We  go  up  the  Peel,"  he  explained.  "  Then  a  little 
river  lets  us  right  into  the  Fishing  Lakes.  Jelly  and 
Good  Boy  will  get  us  up  in  no  time.  Smells  good,  this 
morning,  doesn't  it?  " 

The  air  was  still  and  vital  with  the  frost.  Across  the 
foot-hills  and  the  white  flanks  of  the  Rockies  sunlight 
dazzled,  drawing  sharp  scents  from  distant  clumps  of 
aspen  and  tamarac  and  willow,  all  mixed  with  the  pungent 
odours  of  spruce.  In  the  swampy  places  over  the  river, 


"THE    LONE    PATROL"  431 

and  along  the  uplands  duck  were  calling  and  wild  geese 
clanging  in  their  haste  to  be  gone,  and  Dick's  foot  broke 
a  stray  yellow  dandelion  from  its  stem  as  he  sprang  into 
the  canoe.  Hansham  pointed  his  cane  at  it. 

"  Look/'  he  said.  "  In  August,  and  a  hundred  miles 
within  the  Arctic  Circle  as  the  crow  flies.  What  would 
English  people  think  of  that?" 

"  I've  found  wild-flowers  in  July  two-fifty  miles  further 
on." 

"  At  Herschel  ? "  Hensham  looked  at  him  quickly. 
"You've  been  there,  then?  Why — I  guess — you're  the 
man  who  picked  that  Yankee  absconder  out  of  his  own 
whaler  there  about  five  years,  ago." 

"  Six.  It  is  a  great  solace  to  some  of  us  to  find  we 
can  win  fame  so  easily." 

"  I  imagine  it  wasn't  easily.  You  can't  treat  a  Yank 
like  anyone  else.  He  mostly  has  his  own  opinions.  These 
canoes  are  pretty  decent,  aren't  they?  The  Indians  won't 
use  anything  but  birch  bark.  Our  hardwood's  good 
enough,  too.  Baskerville — he's  H.  B.  factor  here — he  has 
a  pair  of  birch  bark  snow-shoes  over  a  hundred  years  old. 
Right  and  left  spread  of  frame,  you  know.  I  want  them 
the  worst  way,  but  he  won't  part  for  any  money." 

It  was  good  to  hear  Hensham  talk  after  the  long  silences 
filled  with  thoughts  that  hurt.  And  it  was  good  to  paddle 
smoothly  with  the  strong  stern-thrust  to  help,  past  banks 
of  spruce  and  willow  and  scented  Balm  of  Gilead  where 
the  coloured  leaves  dropped  into  the  water.  The  frost 
had  killed  out  the  last  flies  and  mosquitoes;  but  Hensham 
remembered  them  feelingly. 

"  An  absolutely  devilish  pest  they  are,"  he  said.  "  How 
did  you  get  on  ?  " 

"  Kept  out  in  the  stream  all  day,  and  made  smudges 
at  night.  They  were  nothing  to  what  I've  known  on  the 
Hudson  Bay  side." 

"  Tell  me  about  it.  What's  the  hunting  like  there?  We 
have  the  jumping  deer  here,  you  know.  They're  fine  sport. 
And  moose,  of  course,  and  sometimes  musk-ox.  But 
there's  nothing  much  better  than  the  jumping  deer  among 
the  foothills.  Grahame  was  crazy  about  them.  Said  they 
beat  the  Scotch  deer-forests  hollow." 


432  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Dick  had  no  time  for  thought  until  they  came  in  the 
darkening  evening  of  the  short  fall  day  to  the  Fishing 
Lakes,  raising  the  Indian  camp-fires  one  by  one  as  they 
swung  round  the  loops  of  the  river. 

"  Smell  the  fish  ?  "  said  Hensham.  "  They  don't  leave 
things  to  the  imagination  any,  do  they?  What  say?  Oh, 
well;  they  do  get  a  few  greyling  and  loche  and  others. 
But  it's  mostly  white  fish,  of  course.  Jelly  " — he  turned 
to  the  Loucheux  behind  him — "  drive  in  there  where  the 
camp  seems  biggest.  They're  sure  to  have  some  chiefs 
among  them.  And  you  go  right  ahead  and  ask  what  you 
want  to  know,  Heriot.  Jelly  will  put  you  through.  And 
you  can  trust  'em  as  far  as  you  can  size  'em  up.  They're 
decent  fellows.  Never  have  any  trouble  with  them.  Chris- 
tians, too.  They  all  carry  around  Bibles  in  their  own 
language." 

"  Do  you  call  that  a  recommendation,"  said  Dick, 
amused;  and  he  stepped  out,  looking  round  him  with  all 
the  keen  delight  of  his  artist  blood. 

Through  the  colourless  evening  the  big  camp-fires  blazed 
strongly ;  shooting  their  light  among  the  little  dingy  tepees 
and  the  spreading  spruces  and  across  the  clearing  to  the 
lip  of  the  grey  low  lake.  In  the  clearings  stood  great 
scaffoldings  of  birch  poles,  gridironed  over  the  top.  In 
dark,  half-seen  knots  by  the  lake  stooped  the  Indian 
women,  splitting  the  fish,  and  running  a  sharp-pointed 
stick  through  the  tails,  one  after  the  other.  Presently  a 
shapeless  figure  detached  itself  from  the  bulk;  crossed 
the  bars  of  light  that  pricked  out  for  a  moment  the  high- 
cheeked  copper-yellow  face  and  the  black  stiff  hair; 
crossed  to  a  scaffold,  and  hung  her  armful  of  sticks  in 
a  row  along  the  gridiron.  Then  noiselessly  she  turned  and 
went  back  to  her  work. 

The  men  had  done  their  share  when  they  drew  the  last 
nets  to  land  an  hour  ago.  They  smoked  now,  lounging 
round  the  fires,  and  sucking  the  fish-bones  of  their  supper. 
Through  signs  and  Jelly's  assistance  Dick  extracted  infor- 
mation from  several,  and  then  Hensham  came  back  from 
a  heated  conversation  down  by  the  Lake. 

"  The  women  have  got  to  clean  up  all  that  before  the 
frost  gets  into  it,"  he  remarked.  "  It'll  be  stiff  as  ramrods 


"THE    LONE    PATROL"  433 

by  morning.  They've  made  a  record  haul,  and  that  old 
sinner  wants  to  charge  me  more  than  fifty  cents  a  stick 
for  the  fish  I'm  getting  from  him.  But  he's  not  going  to 
cut  any  ice  off  me.  He  won't  let  me  have  half  what  I 
want,  either." 

"  They  can't  carry  more  than  a  certain  amount  them- 
selves." 

"  Why — they  don't  go  far  for  their  hunting,  you  know. 
They  cache  a  lot  here  and  come  back  for  it.  Anyhow, 
they  can  punch  holes  in  the  ice  and  get  some  more  if 
they're  pushed.  Got  any  news  yet?" 

"  No.  They're  hunting  up  an  Esquimaux  who  came  up 
with  fur  from  Herschel,  and  didn't  go  back  with  the 
others." 

"  Oh!  Well,  I  wish  you  luck.  Here  he  is.  My  word; 
they're  pretty  good  chunks  of  fat,  aren't  they?  " 

The  stocky  broad-nosed  little  man  could  speak  a  little 
English.  Dick  possessed  a  few  Esquimaux  words  and  a 
very  great  deal  of  intuition,  and  in  a  little  while  he  knew 
on  which  stage  he  was  to  play  his  first  grim  act  with 
Grange's  Andree.  She  had  gone  to  the  Arctic  Ocean; 
down  the  mighty  Mackenzie  River  where  its  many  mouths 
open  to  salt  water,  and  the  Esquimaux  pass  in  their  kyaks 
and  build  their  snow  igloes. 

"  Now,  what  in  the  nation  could  have  taken  her  there  ?  " 
said  Hensham. 

"  Whalers,"  said  Dick  briefly,  and  for  a  little  while  he 
would  not  speak  again. 

The  Esquimaux  had  passed  her  in  a  birch  canoe  with  an 
Indian  behind  her.  But  Dick  knew  that  she  would  stay 
with  neither  Indian  nor  Esquimaux.  If  she  had  gone 
aboard  a  whaler  which  happened  to  winter  this  year  at 
Herschel  there  was  no  escape  for  her.  But  if  that  whaler, 
Yankee,  or  Russian,  or  Norwegian,  manned  by  English  or 
the  daring  sailor-men  of  Labrador;  if  that  whaler  went 
home  through  those  smoking  seas  of  winter,  Dick's  chase 
had  only  just  begun,  and  Grange's  Andree  might  draw 
him  at  her  heels  for  a  year  yet. 

This  knowledge  roused  in  him  again  that  hunting  in- 
stinct which  was  seldom  dulled  for  long.  Sudden  savage 
desire  to  run  his  quarry  down  rose  above  his  pity  and 


434  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

reluctance.  He  knocked  his  pipe  out  and  stood  up  with 
a  long  breath. 

"  That  is  sure,  then/'  he  said.  "  And  I  must  get  into 
Herschel  before  the  ice.  Can  you  get  me  a  breed  to  pilot 
me  through  the  Mackenzie  mouths,  Hensham?  Those  cur- 
rents are  always  changing." 

"  Why,  certainly."  A  note  in  his  voice  brought  Hen- 
sham  to  look  at  him  curiously.  "  You're  not  wanting  to 
start  right  away  to-night,  are  you  ?  "  He  laughed.  "  Leave 
it  a  day  or  two,  anyway.  By  the  way,  I  sent  Anderson 
down  with  the  mail  after  the  boat  came  in.  You'll  meet 
him,  and  he  can  likely  give  you  some  information." 

"  Ah !     Perhaps  he  can." 

Dick  fell  silent,  looking  round  on  the  amber  and  scar- 
let and  the  cold  black  of  the  night  where  the  dark  figures 
moved.  The  quiet,  busy  women  brought  that  strange  sense 
of  home-life  to  this  wild  nature  which  no  camp  of  men 
ever  brings.  Dick  had  noticed  this  very  often  before,  and 
the  fact  struck  him  again,  forcibly.  A  quiver  of  pain 
passed  across  his  face  before  he  turned  to  answer  Hen- 
sham's  next  question.  For  he  was  remembering  Jennifer 
sewing  on  the  deck  of  the  river-steamer  down  the  Atha- 
baska. 


CHAPTER    XX 

"YOU   MEAN   TO   DO  IT?" 

ACROSS  the  bare  rock  of  Herschel  Island  in  the  Arctic 
Ocean  the  wind  from  the  Pole  blew  a  gale.  For  to  the 
whalers,  Herschel  was  known  familiarly  as  "the  blow- 
hole," and  through  all  the  storm-bitten  twelve  miles  of  it 
neither  tree  nor  shrub  dared  raise  its  head,  though  the 
long  grasses  waved  over  it  in  the  summer  and  the  wild- 
flowers  bloomed. 

In  the  little  settlement  of  white  men  and  Esquimaux 
which  crouched  on  the  sand-pit  round  Pauline  Cove  every 
door  was  barred  and  every  window  made  taut  against  the 
blast  roaring  down  over  the  shoulder  of  the  low  hill  behind. 
Out  in  the  land-locked  bay — the  safest  harbour  all  along 
the  Coast — the  riding-lights  of  four  of  the  whaling-fleet 
swayed  and  shuddered,  driven  hard  against  their  moor- 
ings, and  three  short  miles  away  the  black  humps  of  the 
mainland  mountains  showed  fitfully  as  the  Northern 
Lights  flickered  up  and  fell  back. 

The  low,  strong  log-and-skin  huts  of  the  Kogmollock 
tribe  of  Esquimaux  on  the  island  were  dark  blots  only, 
like  tortoises  asleep.  The  store-houses  of  the  whaling- 
companies  were  dark,  and  in  the  half-dozen  log  huts  used 
by  occasional  officers  of  the  whaling  ships  when  they 
chose  to  live  ashore,  no  life  showed.  Except  for  the  riding- 
lights  in  the  Bay  and  the  glow  from  the  windows  of  the 
Royal  North-West  Mounted  Police  Barracks,  Herschel 
Island  might  well  have  been  a  dead  thing,  accursed  and 
lonely  between  the  frozen  Pole  and  the  naked  shore.  But 
the  life-light  of  the  daring  men  burned  bright  there;  of 
the  whalers  who  follow  their  strike  by  berg  and  floe 
through  the  teeth  of  the  harsh  salt  wind  and  the  smoky- 
spume  that  it  brings,  and  of  the  Police  of  Canada,  who 
plant  their  flag  some  four  thousand  miles  north  of  its 

435 


436  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

birth-place  and  sit  down  under  it  to  dispense  the  law  of 
God  and  of  men  with  all  the  wit  they  may. 

Dick  turned  from  the  window  in  Baxter's  small  private 
room  and  came  back  to  warm  his  hands  at  the  stove 
where  the  driftwood  shone  umber  and  sky-blue  and  salty 
purple.  He  had  been  at  the  Island  a  fortnight,  and  he 
had  learned  some  of  the  things  which  he  had  come  for. 
And  his  knowledge  kept  him  awake  at  nights  because,  for 
the  present,  it  condemned  him  to  inertia.  With  Selkirk, 
one  of  the  two  constables  under  Baxter  at  the  detachment, 
he  had  made  a  long  and  exhaustive  trip  east  among  the 
Esquimaux  on  Baillie  Island  and  beyond  it,  and  there  he 
had  heard  a  few  stray  facts  about  Grange's  Andree.  Two 
Esquimaux  of  the  Nunatalmute  tribe — the  bold  and  honest 
hunters  and  trappers  of  the  mainland — had  brought  her 
across  Mackenzie  Bay,  and  there  she  had  joined  a  family 
party  going  east  in  one  of  the  great  deep-sea  umiaks 
wherein  the  Esquimaux  make  their  long  voyages.  Dick 
had  come  back  to  Herschel  in  disgust. 

"  She  must  have  started  just  about  the  time  the  whalers 
went  out,"  he  said.  "  Were  there  any  going  back  to  San 
Francisco  this  year,  and  would  they  have  taken  her  aboard 
supposing  they  were  ?  " 

"  There's  the  '  Aida/  Captain  Ormundsen.  He's  got  his 
wife  with  him,  and  he  was  going  out  if  he  took  whales. 
He  had  bad  luck  last  year.  And  the  '  Skagway '  didn't 
intend  winterin'  again.  Closely  was  master  of  her  and  a 
bad  lot.  He'd  take  Andree  just  to  give  us  trouble.  The 
'  Fanny '  reckoned  to  go  out,  but  she's  back.  Got  no 
whales,  and  her  master  persuaded  the  men  to  try  another 
season.  They're  losin'  money,  an'  they'll  keep  on  losin' 
it,  I  guess.  Likely  some  of  'em  will  desert  this  winter, 
an'  we'll  have  to  hunt  'em.  And  then  there's  the  '  Rocket.' 
She  aimed  to  go  out;  but  I  guess  Jack  Scott'll  bring  her 
back.  He's  a  Yank,  and  he'll  stick  at  it  till  he  has  to 
hammer  his  way  home  through  ice.  If  Andree  went  aboard 
the  '  Rocket '  there'll  be  rows.  I  remember  her  in  Grey 
Wolf  before  your  time.  She  had  all  the  place  by  the 
ears  then.  A  wild  young  devil  she  was,  always.  That's 
the  only  four  as  wintered  here  last  year." 

"  Ah !     And  if  Andree  has  gone  out  on  any  of  those 


"YOU    MEAN    TO   DO    IT?"  437 

boats  I've  got  half  a  continent  to  cover  before  I  can  get 
at  her." 

"  Sure.     And  you  likely  haven't  got  her  then." 

Dick's  laugh  was  curt.  The  fight  in  him  was  strongly 
roused  by  now,  and  he  had  small  mercy  left  for  Grange's 
Andree. 

"  A  chap  wrote  su'thin'  about  '  There's  never  a  law  of 
God  or  man  runs  north  of  Fifty-three/"  said  Baxter.  "  I 
guess  we  have  got  'em  both  up  here  at  Sixty-nine.  An'  if 
anyone's  wantin'  them  at  Eighty,  which  is  the  Pole  itself, 
ain't  it,  why — we'll  bring  'em  there  right  away.  I  reckon 
our  jurisdiction  runs  that  high  anyhow.  A  feller  can't  get 
on  the  far  side  of  British  law  in  these  parts." 

Baxter's  patrol  reached  some  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
south,  and  as  many  hundreds  east  as  he  could  go.  Alaskan 
territory  touched  it  on  the  west;  but  he  had  no.  objection  to 
including  all  the  northern  latitude  there  was.  Dick  smiled. 
This  unemotional  sanguine  temperament  was  exactly  the 
stuff  needed  for  Herschel. 

"What  have  you  done  with  yourself  these  two  years, 
Baxter  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Why — I  reckon  they  ain't  been  so  long  as  I  thought. 
They  are  the  patrols  up  to  Macpherson  and  around  to 
Xittigazuit,  and  I  went  a  cruise  on  the  '  Janet '  last  year, 
after  whales.  Saw  a  lot  o'  country  and  Esquimaux  that 
were  new,  and  got  a  lot  o'  new  localities  fixed  in  my  head. 
I've  been  mapping  them  out  in  case  they're  ever  wanted. 
We  were  over  a  hundred  miles  north  of  the  magnetic  pole 
that  time,  and  I  tell  you  right  here  that  the  discipline  a 
good  master  can  keep  on  a  whaler  isn't  far  short  o'  that 
on  a  man-o'-war.  Then  there's  the  shootin'  in  spring. 
Brayne  and  I  had  a  solid  week  this  year,  and  I  guess  we 
could  have  got  thousands  o'  duck  an'  crane  an'  geese  if  we'd 
wanted.  There's  all  the  wood  to  haul  from  the  mainland, 
for  we  can't  get  enough  coal  in  by  steamer.  An'  there  are 
the  customs  to  collect  from  the  whalers,  an'  rows  to  kick 
up  if  they're  caught  givin'  drink  to  the  natives,  or  doin' 
any  else  that  they  shouldn't.  An'  once  in  a  while  we  have 
a  prisoner,  though  the  Esquimaux  don't  give  much  trouble. 
There  was  the  whaleboat  I  bought  from  off  the  Karnac  last 
year,  too.  We  stove  her  in  on  a  rock,  an'  she  took  a  lot 


438  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

o*  tinkerin*  to  patch.  An' — oh,  well,  I  guess  we  keep  busy 
oneway  an*  another." 

Dick  nodded.  Baxter  had  had  the  wisdom  to  count  the 
centre  of  the  world  from  where  his  own  feet  stood  instead 
of  some  three  or  four  thousand  miles  to  the  southward. 
That  stolid  nature  of  his  brought  its  own  compensation. 
Two  years  of  Herschel  Island  would  have  driven  Dick 
insane. 

"  But  you  won't  be  sorry  to  be  going  out  in  the  sum- 
mer? "  he  asked. 

"  Why — I  guess  not."  Baxter  jerked  his  thumb  at  a 
photograph  on  the  wall  near  the  stove.  "  That's  what's 
waitin'  for  me  outside,"  he  said. 

Dick  looked  at  the  photograph  with  lazy  interest.  It 
showed  a  homely  face  of  about  average  intelligence  and 
amiability.  But  Baxter's  voice  was  deep  with  an  immense 
pride  and  reverence. 

"  Ah !  "  Dick  said.  "  I  shouldn't  leave  her  too  long,  Ser- 
geant, or  you'll  find  some  other  fellow  has  run  off  with 
her." 

"  Not  much."  Baxter  accepted  the  compliment  with 

abashed  delight.  "  Why,  she  says "  he  thrust  his  hand 

into  his  tunic,  drew  it  away  again,  and  grinned  all  over 
his  kindly  weather-beaten  face.  "  She'll  wait,"  he  said. 
"  I'm  not  afraid  o'  losing  my  Miralma.  Why,  she  writes 
every  week,  though  she  knows  I  only  get  mail  twice  a 
year.  An'  I  writes  lots  to  her.  I  tell  her  all  the  things 
I'm  thinking  about — and  I  do  a  lot  o'  thinking  up  here. 
Brayne  and  Selkirk,  they're  young  fellows,  an'  they  like 
riotin'  around.  I  like  thinkin'." 

"  What  do  you  think  about  ?  "  asked  Dick  curiously. 

"  Oh,  everything.  Whales,  now.  They  live  a  thousand 
years,  and  they  mate  once  only,  for  keeps." 

"  Dear  me."  Dick's  half-closed  eyes  flickered  open. 
"  I'm  afraid  you  couldn't  teach  man  such  constancy.  He 
is  civilised." 

"  Sometimes,"  said  Baxter,  ponderously.  "  I  get  to 
wonderin'  if  civilisation  is  all  it's  cracked  up  to  be." 

"Do  you?  Why,  it  has  taught  us  how  to  evade  the 
harm  we  do  instead  of  getting  caught  every  time." 

"An'  I  don't  know  as  that's  a  very  good  thing,  either." 


"YOU    MEAN    TO    DO    IT?"  439 

"  Ah !  "  Dick's  lids  flickered  again.  "  You  are  not  a 
sophist,  Sergeant." 

"  Wliy — I  guess  I'm  not  exactly  certain  what  that  is." 

"  Pray  your  gods  you  never  may  be.  Have  you  any 
gods,  though  ?  " 

"  Well — I  reckon  I've  been  wonderin'  that  too.  My 
Miralma  says  I've  got  to  have  hers.  An'  I  don't  know. 
Likely  I  have  when  I  come  to  think  of  it.  A  man  does 
a  lot  of  thinkin'  up  here,  an'  she's  maybe  right.  Won- 
derful what  a  woman  can  do  wi'  a  man,  now.  I  get  to 
thinkin'  that,  too." 

Dick  glanced  again  at  the  woman  on  the  wall.  With 
that  face  and  that  name  anything  might  be  expected  of 
Baxter's  Miralma — anything  except  teaching  a  hard-bitten 
old  campaigner  like  Baxter  to  get  down  on  his  stiff  knees 
before  her  beliefs. 

"  It  is  wonderful,"  he  assented.  "  But  they  corral  us 
with  other  things  besides  religion,  you  know." 

"If  you  think  as  she  ever  tried  to  get  me " 

"  Xo,  no.  I  am  sure  it  was  mutual  attraction.  Like  to 
like.  I  was  thinking  more  of  myself  than  of  you  just  then." 

Baxter  grunted,  contemplating  the  strong  easy  body 
flung  back  in  the  big  chair  that  was  made  from  a  cut-down 
whale-oil  barrel.  Dick  looked  very  well  and  vigorous.  The 
hard  work  and  the  open  air  had  given  him  the  last  hall- 
mark of  health,  and  if  his  indifference  and  cynicism  were 
less  carefully  veiled  than  in  earlier  days  Baxter  was  not 
the  man  to  notice  it. 

Baxter  stuffed  some  more  wood  into  the  stove,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders  as  the  wind  bellowed  at  the  win- 
dows. 

"  Any  whaler  tryin*  to  get  in  to-night'll  have  to  watch 
out,"  he  said.  "Was  Selkirk  bakin'  when  you  were  in  the 
kitchen  ?  " 

"  He  was.  And  Brayne  was  splicing  a  shovel-handle. 
They're  a  handy  pair." 

"  They  have  to  be.  Do  you  know  what  else  I've  been 
thinkin'?  What  my  Miralma  calls  God  is  not  mighty  un- 
like what  I  call  conscience." 

"  Really?  Not  the  conscience  you  have  to  live  with  all 
the  year  round  ?  " 


440  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  Why,  now;  I  guess  it's  got  to  be.  Conscience  is  a  kind 
o'  standard  we  got  to  measure  up  to  whether  we  like  it  or 
not.  I  learned  at  school — an'  it  stuck,  someway — that  the 
first  Edward  of  England  made  the  yard-measure  the  length 
o'  his  own  arm.  And  it  stayed  put  at  that.  Well,  the 
measure  o'  right  is  the  standard  o'  Miralma's  Cod's  arm,  I 
reckon.  And  that  stays  put.  We  can't  monkey  any  over 
measurin'  cloth.  That's  a  set  standard.  It  don't  change 
because  we  want  a  bit  o'  give  an'  take  sometimes.  It  stays 
put.  And  we  can't  monkey  any  with  the  standard  of  our 
conscience.  A  man  knows  right  enough  what  he's  got  to 
measure  up  against.  He's  got  the  whole  three  feet  of  it 
inside  of  him." 

"  And  supposing  he  has — what  then  ?  " 

"  Why — why ;  any  ordinary  decent  man  don't  generally 
go  doing  what  he  knows  he  hadn't  ought  to  do." 

"  How  old  are  you,  Baxter  ?  " 

"  Forty-two,  sir." 

Occasionally  Baxter  forgot  the  rank  which  man  makes 
in  presence  of  the  rank  which  birth  makes.  Dick  looked 
at  him  through  half-shut  eyes. 

"  Seven  years  older  than  I  am/'  he  said,  slowly.  "  You're 
a  lucky  man,  Sergeant." 

Baxter's  eyes  went  back  to  the  plain-faced  woman  on 
the  wall. 

"  My !     I  reckon  I  know  that,"  he  said  softly. 

Dick  sprang  up  impatiently,  and  went  over  to  the  win- 
dow, staring  out  on  the  pale  wild  night  where  the  lights 
fluttered.  Even  in  the  sheltered  bay  the  sea  heaved  in  great 
masses  like  ebony,  and  the  wind  brought  the  steady  boom  of 
its  crashing  on  the  outer  rocks.  A  speck  of  light  like  a 
firefly  showed  once  beyond  the  harbour  mouth,  showed 
again,  and  Dick  spoke. 

"  Here's  Jack  Scott  walking  the  '  Rocket '  home,  Bax- 
ter." 

"What?"  Baxter  came  hurriedly  to  his  elbow.  "Why, 
it  is  a  boat,  sure  enough.  And  I  guess  it's  Scott.  There 
ain't  too  many  men  would  try  to  make  that  passage  to- 
night. Eh?  She's  a  five- forty-ton  steamer,  twin  propeller, 
is  the  '  Rocket,'  and  maybe  she'll  get  in,  and  maybe  she 
won't.  If  she  catches  one  of  those  big  seas  on  her  she'll  go 


"YOU    MEAN    TO    DO    IT?'?  441 

down  like  a  nail  under  a  punch.  But  she  likely  had  to 
come.  The  ice'd  be  chasing  her  off  the  grounds,  and  Scott 
won't  fool  around  doing  nothing." 

Dick  gave  no  answer.  He  was  watching  that  light  which 
flared  skyward  and  sank  and  struggled  up  again  like  the 
fluctuating  pulse  of  a  sick  man.  Jt  represented  forty  or 
more  human  lives,  and  one  of  those  lives  might  be  Grange's 
Andree.  That  thought  quickened  the  desire  for  capture  in 
him,  and  quickened  his  imagination  also.  Suppose  Andree 
were  aboard,  how  would  she  meet  him?  Once  he  had  seen 
her  afraid,  and  he  did  not  want  to  see  that  again.  He 
could  not  think  of  Andree  as  crying  piteously  for  mercy. 
He  would  not  think  of  it.  Rather  on  this  night  of  wild 
storm  and  flying  spray  could  he  think  of  her  breasting  it; 
laughing,  with  her  curls  blown  out  and  her  long  coat 
wrapped  round  her.  There  were  the  same  reckless  ele- 
ments in  her  as  in  himself.  She  would  defy  him;  or  she 
would  fling  herself  on  him  in  her  all-forgetting  love.  But 
she  would  not  cry  to  him  for  mercy.  He  dared  not  think 
of  that. 

He  watched  the  light  die  and  leap  up  again  and  pitch 
sideways  with  almost  the  intensity  of  belief  that  it  was 
Andree  herself  battling  her  wild,  lonely  way  out  there 
against  the  storm.  Baxter  spoke  again. 

"  I  reckon  it  is  the  '  Rocket,'  safe  enough.  See  her  clear 
that  point?  He's  a  cast-iron  sailor,  is  Scott,  and  he'll 
bring  her  in  straight  as  a  bullet  with  destruction  all  around 
him.  There's  not  another  man  in  the  fleet  would  dare  it 
on  a  night  like  this.  My!  She's  coming." 

"Can  I  go  aboard  her  with  you  in  the  morning,  Ser- 
geant?" 

"  Eh?  Why — were  you  thinkin'  he  might  have  Andree? 
It's  one  chance  in  a  hundred,  Heriot." 

"More  than  that.  If  she  went  out  intending  to  board  a 
boat  she'd  do  it.  And  there'd  not  be  more  than  three  or 
four  that  didn't  mean  to  winter.  There  is  a  good  chance 
that  she's  on  the  '  Rocket.'  " 

"  Well ;  it's  possible.  Anything  is  possible  in  this  world, 
I  guess.  But  I  won't  have  you  along,  Heriot.  Maybe  I 
can  get  her  ashore  friendly-like.  That  would  be  better 
than  doin'  the  thing  in  public,  I  reckon." 


J42  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Dick  glanced  round.  Such  refinement  in  regard  to 
Grange's  Andree  rather  amused  him. 

"  It  would  be  the  first  time  Andree  ever  objected  to 
publicity,"  he  said.  "  And  you  won't  get  her  ashore,  Ser- 
geant. She'll  guess  you've  something  up  your  sleeve.  If 
she's  there,  I  must  go  as  soon  as  you  come  back,  for  fear 
she  gets  off  in  some  way." 

Baxter  nodded,  and  in  silence  the  two  watched  the 
'  Rocket '  beat  near  and  nearer  until  she  came  to  anchor  at 
last,  riding  heavily  against  the  white  foam  along  the  har- 
bour ja\vs. 

Then  Dick  went  to  bed.  But  he  did  not  sleep  well.  A 
dozen  times  he  woke  to  hear  the  thunder  of  the  wind  and 
the  gurgling  snores  of  Baxter  in  the  other  bed  across  the 
room.  Once  Selkirk  came  out  of  the  room  opposite  and 
tried  the  front  door  where  it  shuddered  and  groaned  under 
the  smite  of  the  wind,  and  many  times  he  expected  the 
storm-window  to  be  driven  in.  Mingled  with  his  uneasy 
dreams  were  the  faces  he  knew  best.  Jennifer,  now  laugh- 
ing, now  crying,  now  turning  from  him.  Tempest,  stern 
and  aloof,  unbending  even  in  his  grave  self-renunciation. 
Andree,  warm-lipped  and  glowing  with  her  love,  reaching 
eager  hands  to  him.  He  woke  once  with  the  strange 
breathless  sensation  of  a  kiss  stinging  his  mouth  and  the 
blood  galloping  along  his  veins.  Then  he  lay  still,  staring 
on  the  darkness,  and  thinking  his  bitter  thoughts.  Jenni- 
fer had  sent  him  away.  Tempest  would  not  accept  his 
friendship  any  more.  Those  two  whom  he  loved  had  chosen 
to  be  nothing  to  him.  It  was  only  Andree  who  held  him 
before  pride  or  conscience  or  anything  else.  Only  Andree 
who  was  ready  to  fling  all  she  had  and  was  into  his  hands 
if  he  would  have  taken  it.  And  he  had  been  cruel  to  her, 
mercilessly  cruel.  But  her  love  had  been  a  greater  thing 
than  that. 

And  then  with  a  sudden  stab  came  the  thought:  Was 
her  love  for  him  still  the  chief  thing  in  her  life?  A  chill 
of  dread  ran  along  his  body  to  think  that  perhaps  it  was 
not.  In  the  cold  dark  of  midnight,  when  a  man's  will  lies 
weakest,  Dick  knew  that  it  would  be  real  pain  to  know  that 
Andree  had  ceased  to  love  him.  He  was  heart-sick  with 
desire  for  Jennifer  and  for  Tempest,  and  they  had  denied 


"YOU   MEAN   TO   DO   IT?"  443 

him  what  he  wanted.  They  had  been  too  cold,  too  pure  for 
him;  and  in  a  savage  revulsion  of  feeling  the  whole  of  him 
cried  out  for  something  which  cared  for  him,  for  his  own 
self,  past  all  laws  and  creeds  and  scruples  and  calculations ; 
something  which  would  love  him  whether  he  were  good  or 
evil,  whether  he  were  cruel  or  kind;  something  which  just 
gave,  demanding  none  of  those  self-torturing  struggles  from 
him. 

This  mood  held  him  doggedly  through  the  next  morn- 
ing, when  the  grey  bay  tossed  restlessly  under  the  clear 
sky  and  Baxter  went  out  in  the  whaleboat  with  Selkirk  and 
a  couple  of  Esquimaux  to  the  '  Rocket.'  Dick  helped 
Brayne  wash  up  and  fill  the  stoves  with  wood.  Then  he 
put  on  the  close-sewn  fur  coat  bought  from  an  old  Kog- 
mollock  woman  and  went  down  to  the  shore. 

The  smite  of  the  wind  tingled  his  blood  at  once  and  red- 
dened his  eyes.  He  opened  his  chest  to  it,  walking  fast, 
and  glancing  round  him  with  those  keen  eyes  which  missed 
so  little. 

Outside  their  low  banked-up  huts  a  few  Esquimaux  were 
moving  with  the  fur-lined  head-covering  thrown  back  from 
their  coarse  black  hair,  tonsured  like  a  monk's,  and  their 
good-natured  flat  greasy  faces.  They  had  gone  into  their 
winter  clothes  since  he  saw  them  last  evening,  for  their 
outer  coats  had  the  long  hair  blowing  in  the  wind.  On  the 
inner  suit  the  hair  was  turned  next  the  skin.  In  the  store 
of  the  Pacific  Steam  Whaling  Navigation  Company  some 
hands  off  one  of  the  whalers  were  bringing  out  beams  and 
joists  and  planed  timber  for  the  roofing-in  of  their  vessel. 
Dick  stopped  a  little  while  to  watch  them.  Hard-sinewed 
men,  the  most  of  them,  with  their  loose  clothes  flapping, 
and  their  untamed  faces  ruddy,  and  their  bright  eyes  with 
that  far-seeing  wildness  in  them  as  though  they  listened 
still  to  the  call  of  their  lover  at  sea.  They  spoke  little  and 
sullenly,  and  he  guessed  them  to  be  from  the  '  Fanny  ' ; 
foremast  hands  who  had  "  signed  on  bone,"  and  who,  be- 
cause there  were  no  whales  and  consequently  no  bone,  were 
going  deeper  in  debt  to  the  steamer  every  day.  Dick  re- 
membered Baxter's  suspicion  that  some  of  them  would  try 
to  desert.  And,  looking  at  them,  he  believed  it. 

In  the  harbour  the  boats  still  rocked  and  groaned  at 


444  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

their  hawsers  with  the  tug  of  the  after-swell.  The 
'  Rocket '  drew  deeper  than  any  other  there ;  but  she,  like 
the  rest,  was  bluff  and  broad  of  beam  and  flat  of  keel,  so 
that  the  ice  might  lift  her  and  not  crush  her  in  its  mighty 
grip.  Naked  and  mournful  they  looked  with  their  bare 
poles  stabbing  the  sky  and  their  sheets  singing  in  the  wind. 
The  white  shaving  of  smoke  from  the  '  Rocket's  '  stack 
showed  that  she  had  not  chosen  her  winter  quarters  yet, 
and  as  Dick  watched  her,  Baxter's  boat  dropped  away 
from  her  side  and  drove  shoreward  with  the  men  swinging 
low  to  the  oars.  Dick  went  down  to  the  very  lip  of  the 
water  and  looked.  There  was  no  woman  in  the  boat.  But 
that  told  nothing.  It  was  not  Baxter  who  was  to  take 
Grange's  Andree  from  her  stronghold. 

The  boat  swung  near,  dipping  deep  in  the  restless  swell. 
Baxter  stepped  out,  answering  the  question  in  Dick's  eyes. 

"  She's  there,"  he  said  briefly.  Then  he  took  Dick  a  few 
steps  aside.  "  She's  there,"  he  said  again,  and  his  voice 
was  uneven.  "  Heriot,  you  never  told  me  she'd  turned  out 
the  lovely  thing  she  is.  I  remember  her  thin  and  brown, 
and  even  then — Well,  she's  got  them  all  crazy  for  her,  of 
course.  And  they  can't  do  anything  with  her,  not  a  man 
of  'em.  She  goes  around  with  a  knife  in  her  belt,  and  they 
dassent  touch  her.  Have  it  into  them  like  light,  she  would, 
and  they  know  it.  My !  And  that  makes  them  the  crazier. 
She  is  a  beauty,  and  this  is  a  bitter,  cruel  thing  you've  got 
to  do,  Heriot.  A  bitter  cruel  thing." 

Dick  smiled  a  little.  He  knew  so  well  that  wild  animal 
indifference  and  temper  and  defiance  in  Andree.  And  she 
carried  a  knife,  did  she?  Would  she  try  to  use  it  on  him, 
or  would  she  come  to  him  as  before,  with  her  hands  out 
and  the  gladness  in  her  eyes? 

"  Jack  Scott's  clean  off  his  head,"  said  Baxter.  "  He 
wanted  to  take  her  out  the  worst  way,  but  the  ice  caught 
him.  I'll  go  along  with  you  now,  Heriot,  for  she'll  be  a 
handful  of  herself  if  she  don't  want  to  come,  and  I  wouldn't 
answer  for  Scott  the  way  he  is.  You've  got  your  warrant, 
supposin'  he  wants  to  see  it?  It's  his  ship,  you  know. 
Well — get  in.  Push  her  off,  Selkirk;  we're  goin'  out  to  the 
'  Rocket '  again." 

"  Does  he  know  she's  wanted  ?  " 


"YOU    MEAN    TO    DO    IT?"  445 

"  No.  You'll  have  to  tell  him  that.  Poor  devil.  I  guess 
he's  sorry  he  ever  took  her  aboard.  She's  rnakin'  him 
sweat  for  it.  You  watch  out,  Dick.  One  can  raise  out 
most  fellows  on  a  bluff,  but  a  man  in  love  is  the  devil  to 
meddle  with." 

Dick  knew  this  for  a  certainty  when  he  peered  in  at  the 
cabin  door  over  Baxter's  shoulder,  and  saw  Scott  with  his 
elbows  on  the  table,  and  his  eyes  on  Andree  where  she  sat 
on  the  transom  under  the  port-hole.  In  the  light  of  the 
deck  he  had  stumbled  among  half-scraped  bone,  barrels 
and  trying-out  pots,  flenching-knives  and  tubs  of  blubber. 
Here,  in  the  gloom,  the  two  men  and  the  one  girl  at  the 
table  showed  palely.  And  then  Andree  thrust  her  face  for- 
ward at  Baxter. 

"  You  needn't  have  come  back.  I  will  not  go  ashore  for 
any  man,"  she  cried. 

"Won't  you  come  for  me,  Andree?"  said  Dick,  and 
stepped  out  of  the  dark.  Andree  sprang  up  with  eyes  di- 
lated and  colour  suddenly  struck  from  her  cheeks.  Dick 
heard  the  men  move,  but  his  eyes  did  not  leave  Andree. 
Did  she  know  what  he  had  come  for?  Did  she  know?  " 

"  Dick !  "  she  screamed  sharply.     "  Dick !  " 

She  put  her  foot  on  the  transom  and  hurled  herself 
across  the  table;  tripping  and  stumbling  among  the  cups 
and  cutlery,  laughing  and  crying  in  a  breath. 

Dick  caught  her  reaching  arms  and  lifted  her  down, 
holding  her  still. 

"  Steady,"  he  said.    "  Steady,  Andree." 

But  his  own  voice  was  not  steady.  Not  at  this  moment 
could  he  forget  what  she,  in  her  utter  abandon,  had  come 
to  him  for. 

Scott  was  round  the  end  of  the  table  now,  with  his  square 
face  distorted  by  passion. 

"Take  your  hands  off  her,"  he  said  thickly.  "Take 
them  off,  will  you?  " 

The  light  in  Andree's  eyes  had  blurred  Baxter  for  a  mo- 
ment. He  wondered  if  Dick  had  known  of  this.  He 
touched  Scott  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Be  careful,"  he  said  quietly.  "  Don't  you  see  his 
uniform?  " 

Dick  had  stooped  his  head  down  to  Andree. 


446  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  Do  you  know  what  I've  come  for,  Andree?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  oui ;  "  Andree  shrugged  her  shoulders  impatiently. 
"  I  suppose.  Mais — I  knew  it  would  be  you  to  find  me. 
And  it  was  you !  " 

She  laughed  in  that  light-hearted  spirit  which  never  let 
her  see  beyond  the  moment.  And  then  Scott  thrust  Baxter 
aside.  The  intended  hint  had  not  reached  him.  He  was 
swept  beyond  everything  but  his  love  and  jealousy,  and  he 
put  his  hand  on  Andree's  arm. 

"  Let  her  be,"  he  said  loudly.  "  She's  my  passenger 
aboard  my  ship,  and  I  won't  have  her  interfered  with.  Get 
away  out  of  here.  I'm  an  American  citizen,  and  I  don't 
care  a  cold  cent  for  you  or  your  uniform  or  that  damned 
law  of  yours  behind  it!  Get  off  my  ship.  Get  away  out 
of  here !  " 

Dick  half-turned,  swinging  Andree  swiftly  behind  him. 

"  Leave  him  to  me,  Sergeant,"  he  said ;  and  Baxter  un- 
derstood. For  many  reasons — reasons  which  were  beyond 
those  which  Baxter  knew — this  was  Dick's  business  only. 

Scott's  face  was  dead-white  and  his  eyes  were  wild.  He 
tried  to  pass  Dick,  but  the  policeman's  solid  bulk  and  su- 
perior height  blocked  him. 

"  What  are  you  here  for  ?  "  he  shouted.  "  What  do  you 
want — you !  " 

"  Would  you  like  to  know  ?  "  The  smile  on  Dick's  lips 
tightened.  "  Look  at  this  then.  No — you  won't  touch  it." 

Scott  glanced  over  the  warrant.  He  gave  a  deep  groan, 
like  a  man  struck  in  the  chest,  and  he  staggered  as  though 
he  had  been  struck. 

"  You — you  can't  mean  to  do  that  ?  "  he  faltered.  "  You 
can't  mean  to  do  that?  " 

"  Possibly  my  uniform  and  my  law  mean  more  than  a 
cold  cent  to  me,"  suggested  Dick;  and  Scott  looked  straight 
at  him. 

"  You  devil !  "  he  said. 

The  set  smile  was  on  Dick's  face  still.  Keeling,  the 
mate,  came  forward. 

"  What's  he  giving  you,  Cap'n  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  question  roused  Scott  again. 

"  Why  didn't  she  tell  me !  "  he  cried.  "  Andree,  Andree ; 
why  didn't  you  tell  me!  And  I'd  have  taken  you  out  if  I'd 
lost  half  my  catch  over  it.  Ah — Andree !  " 


"YOU   MEAN   TO   DO   IT?"  447 

Again  he  tried  to  pass  Dick,  and  could  not.  Keeling 
leaned  back  against  the  table  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets. 

"Murder?"  he  asked  of  Baxter  with  uplifted  brows. 
Baxter  nodded,  and  Keeling  laughed  a  little  harsh  laugh. 

"  Stewed  in  your  own  gravy,  Cap'n,"  he  said.  "  You 
wouldn't  let  me  touch  her,  and  now  you've  lost  her  your- 
self." 

Dick  looked  at  him  with  interest. 

"  I  wish  it  was  you  I  had  to  deal  with,  my  man,"  he 
murmured.  "  Captain  Scott,  I  apologise  for  my  intrusion, 
but  I  have  my  duty  to  perform.  I  must  remove  the  pris- 
oner at  once." 

Scott  straightened  up  and  his  white,  rigid  face  was  dan- 
gerous. 

"  We  are  two  men  to  two,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  care  what 
uniform  you  wear,  or  what  warrant  you  carry.  You  shall 
not  have  her.  I'll  call  the  whole  ship  out  before  I  let  you 
take  her." 

"  I  don't  think  that  the  gentleman  behind  you  intends  to 
endanger  his  life  in  a  quarrel  of  this  sort.  You  had  better 
be  wise,  Captain  Scott.  There  are  always  more  where  we 
come  from,  you  know." 

Scott  glanced  at  Keeling  and  glanced  away  again.  It 
was  as  Dick  had  said.  The  odds  were  three  to  one. 

"  Will  you  fight  me  for  her?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  said  Dick  sincerely.  "  You're  a 
straight  man,  sir,  and  I'd  be  happy  to  oblige  you.  But  it 
is  against  my  orders,  and  you  can  only  get  yourself  ar- 
rested if  you  interfere." 

"  You  mean  to  take  her — for  this  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Does  she  know  it?" 

"  Yes." 

"  But  she "  He  was  silent  a  moment,  thinking. 

Then  he  sprang  straight  at  Dick.  "  She  loves  you,"  he 
cried.  "  She  loves  you,  you  blackguard,  and  you  can  do 
this  to  her !  " 

Dick  met  him  as  promptly,  and  the  two  men  grappled. 
It  was  a  short  struggle,  but  a  very  sharp  one.  For  though 
Dick  was  the  taller  and  the  heavier,  Scott  had  courage  and 
plenty  of  science.  But  it  was  the  tumult  of  his  own  hearfi 


448  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

that  played  the  traitor  with  him,  and  in  a  little  he  reeled 
back,  clutching  at  the  table  with  both  hands,  and  shaking 
and  giddy  with  the  uneven  breaths  he  drew.  Keeling  had 
watched  with  sullen  pleasure  in  his  eyes.  He  had  more 
than  one  grudge  against  Scott.  And  Andree  had  watched 
in  unabashed  delight.  She  always  gloried  to  see  men  flung 
off  their  balance  for  her,  and  she  always  rejoiced  to  see 
them  fight.  Scott  found  his  breath  at  last. 

"  You — mean  to  do  it  ?  "  he  gased. 

Dick  pulled  his  tunic  down  and  settled  his  belt. 

"  I  do  not  change  my  mind,"  Captain  Scott,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  not  a  soft  man,"  said  Scott  slowly.  "  But — 
He  lifted  himself,  fastening  his  eyes  on  Dick.  "  You  speak 
of  your  duty,"  he  said.  "  Your  duty !  A  man's  duty  is  to 
protect  a  woman,  and  not  to  hunt  her  down  for  death.  I 
can't  keep  her.  I  can't  fight  the  three  of  you.  And  I'll  let 
you  take  her  if  she  has  to  go  because  it  will  bring  you  worse 
luck  than  anything  you've  ever  done  in  all  your  life.  You'll 
never  see  Heaven,  but  maybe  we'll  meet  in  Hell  and  figure 
out  the  end  of  this.  Let  me  speak  to  her." 

Dick  moved  aside,  and  Scott  held  his  hand  out  to  Andree. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said.  "  I'd  have  saved  you  if  you'd  told 
me.  Did  you  think  you'd  have  shocked  me?  My  girl,  I 
love  you  the  better  for  your  pluck.  Tell  me  that  you  never 
hated  me,  Andree." 

Andree's  cheeks  were  bright  and  her  eyes  dancing.  She 
veiled  them  a  moment  with  her  long  lashes,  and  looked  up 
with  the  half-shy  swiftness  which  had  been  fatal  to  so  many 
before  Scott's  day. 

"  Mais  non,"  she  whispered.  "  I  did  like  you.  But  I 
like  Dick  more  better. 

"  You  know  what  he  is  taking  you  for  ?  " 

Andree  pulled  her  hand  from  Scott's,  and  slid  it  into 
Dick's. 

"  He  is  Dick,"  she  said  simply. 

Scott  looked  keenly  into  the  other  man's  face.  Then  he 
swung  on  his  heel. 

"  Take  her,"  he  said.  "  I'd  rather  be  Andree  than  your- 
self, and  so  would  you.  But  you've  got  to  be  yourself,  and 
I  guess  that's  going  to  give  you  all  you  want  before  you're 
through." 


449 

He  passed  into  his  cabin,  shut  the  door,  and  locked  it. 
Dick  and  Baxter  took  Andree  back  to  the  barracks.  But, 
an  hour  later,  when  Andree  sat  in  Baxter's  little  room, 
mending  a  net  and  singing  her  soft  French  songs  over  it, 
Baxter  saw  Dick  climbing  the  little  slope  that  led  up  the 
wind-swept  plateau  beyond.  It  was  dark  when  he  came 
back,  and  the  cool  indifference  of  his  manner  wa«  un- 
changed. But  Baxter  knew. 

"  That  fellow  is  goin'  to  be  tried-out — hard — before  he's 
done  wi'  Grange's  Andree,"  he  told  himself. 

Day  by  day  the  long  fierce  billows  of  the  Arctic  bowed 
their  old  grey-bearded  heads  lower  before  the  march  of  the 
ice.  Day  by  day  Dick  fretted  to  be  gone,  and  waited  for 
the  snow,  and  helped  Baxter  in  his  round  of  duties,  and 
looked  after  Andree.  She  obeyed  Dick  implicitly,  with  a 
frank  delight.  But  she  was  a  torment  to  the  other  men, 
and  Baxter  said  no  more  than  he  felt  when  he  one  night 
expressed  a  belief  that  Andree  would  probably  knife  Sel- 
kirk directly  as  she  had  done  Ogilvie. 

"  Did  she  tell  you  she'd  killed  Ogilvie  ? "  said  Dick 
sharply. 

"  Sure.  Last  night.  He  cheeked  her,  she  said,  an*  she 
wasn't  goin'  to  stand  it.  Wonderful  what  she  takes  from 
you."  He  raised  himself,  looking  keenly  at  Dick.  "If 
one  could  give  a  chap  a  warnin',"  he  began. 

"  One  can't."  Dick's  tone  was  final.  "  Selkirk  tells  me 
we'll  all  be  on  half-rations  directly.  Is  that  so?  " 

"  Why — there  are  four  boats  in  that  didn't  mean  to  win- 
ter. We'll  have  all  we  want  of  fish  and  seal-meat,  o'  course, 
but  we're  going  to  suffer  in  the  groceries.  And  I've  got  to 
keep  a  reserve,  you  know.  The  kiddies  would  peter  out  in 
a  week  if  we  fed  them  with  oil  and  meat  only.  They've  got 
too  accustomed  to  flour  and  sugar  and  tea  now." 

"  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  beg  enough  to  carry  me  to 
Macpherson.  I  fancy  we  should  get  off  in  a  couple  of 
days,  now.  Yes.  I'll  be  glad.  Damned  glad.  I  want  to 
be  doing  something." 

He  went  out  with  a  restlessness  which  he  rarely  showed, 
and  followed  Andree  down  to  Ek-ki-do's  igloo,  where  she 
went  daily  to  play  with  the  children.  It  was  not  needful 
to  put  Andree  under  restraint.  Her  love  for  him  was  the 


450  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

chain  which  bound  her  fast,  and  he  knew  it.  He  had  had 
reason  to  know  it  more  acutely  than  ever  during  these  past 
weeks. 

Outside  the  earth-and-timber  shaft  Dick  dropped  on  his 
knees,  and  crawled  painfully  through  an  odorous  darkness 
into  a  tiny  room  where  he  could  not  stand  upright  and 
across  to  a  larger  one  where  Andree  rolled  with  a  couple 
of  Kogmollock  babies  among  the  deerskin  robes,  on  the  lit- 
tle platform  which  ran  round  the  walls.  The  very  dim 
light  came  through  a  piece  of  transparent  yellow  seal-blad- 
der stretched  across  a  gap  in  the  roof,  and  the  whole  place 
was  hot  and  extremely  rank  with  oil  and  fish-smells.  But 
Andree  was  laughing  in  merry  peals  of  joy  among  the  ba- 
bies, while  the  little  fat  mother  sat  on  the  floor  stitching 
neatly  at  a  deer-skin  tunic. 

"  Hallo,  Andree,"  said  Dick,  and  stood  up  as  Andree 
tumbled  the  chuckling  bundles  aside  and  pushed  her  curls 
back. 

"  Dick,"  she  cried.  "  It  is  that  I  will  have  a  deer-skin 
suit,  moi.  Je  ne  peux  to  mush  in  a  skirt,  and  I  will  not. 
I  will  have  a  parka  and  all  else — comme  c,a.  Like  to  Mrs. 
Ek-ki-do.  And  we  will  have  the  seal-skin  boots,  my  Dick, 
and  I  will  chew  them  pour  vous  when  that  they  do  get  too 
hard." 

"  You  will  what?  " 

"  Chew  them."  Andree  pointed  to  Mrs.  Ek-ki-do.  "  She 
does  chew  her  husband's  boots  tous  les  jours — all  round 
the  sole — to  keep  them  soft.  And  my  teeth  are  all  so  good 
as  hers." 

"  I  know.  You  bit  me  once.  I  will  see  about  the  clothes, 
Andree,  because  I  have  been  thinking  that  we  will  need 
something  of  the  kind.  And  I'll  chew  my  own  boots  if 
it's  necessary,  thank  you.  But  I  fancy  it  won't  be.  It  is 
time  to  come  back  to  barracks,  Andree." 

"  But  kiss  this  bebe  the  once.  She  is  so  dear,"  said  An- 
dree, and  lifted  the  black-eyed,  broad-faced  little  bundle 
with  her  strong  young  grace. 

Dick's  eyes  contracted.  Among  children  Grange's  An- 
dree was  at  her  very  sweetest — until  she  tired  of 
them. 


"YOU    MEAN    TO    DO    IT?"  451 

"Like  a  Japanese  doll,  isn't  she?"  he  said.  "Or  one 
of  Moosta's  babies." 

"  Ah !  "  cried  Andree  in  sharp  passion.  "  Do  not  say 
to  me  of  Moosta's  babies." 

She  was  out  of  the  igloo  and  across  the  beach  before 
Dick  could  follow  her,  and  in  the  barrack-kitchen  he  found 
her  quarrelling  heatedly  with  Brayne.  But  that  incident 
in  Mrs.  Ek-ki-do's  igloo  haunted  him  for  some  days.  For 
many  years  he  had  tried  to  teach  himself  Nietszche's  new 
commandment,  "  Be  hard ;  "  but,  because  of  the  irration- 
alism  which  he  recognised,  his  strength  there  was  always 
likely  to  be  shaken  at  the  unexpected  call  on  it. 

Ten  days  later  came  Dick's  last  night  at  Herschel,  and 
he  felt  a  curious  and  uneasy  reluctance  at  leaving  it.  All 
the  afternoon  he  had  been  on  the  wind-swept  plateau  with 
Brayne  and  Selkirk,  sawing  out  the  great  blocks  of  ice 
from  the  fresh-water  lake  for  storage  in  the  ice-house  until 
summer  came,  and  his  last  sight  of  the  dead  white  Polar 
sea  from  it  had  brought  him  down  shivering  with  more 
than  cold.  For  the  first  time  he  had  a  distinct  dread  of  this 
long  journey  which  was  surely  likely  to  be  no  worse  than 
many  which  he  had  taken  before. 

By  the  stove  in  Baxter's  little  room  Andree  was  putting 
floats  on  a  small  net  with  which  she  intended  to  catch  fish 
in  the  Mackenzie.  She  sang  as  she  worked,  and  her  face 
was  lit  with  anticipation.  Dick  knew  that  on  himself  only, 
the  product  of  a  refined  civilisation,  lay  the  horrors  of  that 
anticipation.  Andree  never  attempted  to  realise  a  thing 
until  she  came  to  it,  and  seldom  then.  She  would  never 
have  run  from  justice  if  the  breed  who  had  brought  her 
word  of  something  Ducane  had  once  said  had  not  urged 
it,  for  she  had  quite  forgotten  the  fear  which  possessed  her 
at  the  time  of  the  trial.  She  forgot  quickly  as  an  animal 
does,  and  far  more  completely,  because  her  eager  ignorant 
mind  always  flung  itself  fully  on  the  next  new  thing.  This 
long  mush  through  the  half-dark  of  an  Arctic  winter,  with 
only  Dick  beside  her  for  the  most  part,  would  be  some- 
thing new  and  strange  and  altogether  delightful. 

"  Bec-a-bec ;  et  toi,  et  moi," 
she  hummed.     Then  she  glanced  up. 


452  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  Je  me  sers  votre  couteau,  Dick/'  she  cried.  "  You  no 
mind?  Tres  bien.  I  did  myself  out  with  it,  too.  Do  you 
know  -what  make  happen  to  me  with  Maktuk  this  afternoon 
•when  we  go  to  shoot  seals  round  the  blow-hole?  It  was  so 
much  cold,  and  the  parka  collar  would  not  keep  up  round 
my  face.  And  Maktuk  he  did  make  spit  on  the  two  sides 
and  hold  them  togezzer.  Dieu !  They  freeze  like  one  dans 
un  moment.  And  they  had  to  hold  me  the  fire  over  to  melt 
me  when  I  come  back.  I  did  laugh." 

Baxter  laughed  also,  going  on  with  his  careful  setting- 
out  of  native  births,  deaths,  and  marriages;  his  tabulation 
of  the  tonnage,  names  of  officers,  and  of  boats  in  the  Bay; 
his  details  of  patrols,  of  the  few  white  men  hunting  or 
prospecting  along  the  Arctic,  and  of  the  state  of  health  and 
contentment  of  the  settlement.  All  these  data  were  to  go 
south  with  Dick,  and  also  a  little  package  of  letters  and 
native  carvings  for  Baxter's  Miralma. 

"  I  guess  they  know  a  thing  or  two,"  he  said.  "  And  I 
guess  reports  are  a  mighty  different  thing  to  what  they 
must  ha'  been  at  Herschel  before  the  missionaries  and  us 
came  along.  Drinkin',  an'  all  sorts  o'  rows  with  the 
whalers,  an'  no  law  or  religion  anywhere  at  all.  And  now 
those  Kogmollocks  hold  their  services  among  themselves 
regular,  and  every  boat's  crew  has  to  be  aboard  by  ten 
o'clock,  and  no  drinkin*  allowed.  This  sort  o*  thing's  a 
satisfaction  to  man,  I  reckon." 

"  Exactly.  And  so  is  the  knowledge  that  we  ultimately 
convert  the  heathen  by  killing  them  out.  There  are  about 
one  hundred  and  twenty  Kogmollocks  now,  aren't  there? 
And  much  the  same  of  Nunatalmutes  ?  A  few  years  ago 
there  were  four  hundred  Kogmollocks.  Oh,  we  will  con- 
vert them  all  right,  Baxter,  for  that  is  the  way  in  which  we 
conquer  our  territories.  We  can't  do  much  with  the  Arctic 
when  we  get  it  all  to  ourselves  without  a  native  left  to  it. 
But  we  will  get  it.  That  is  the  glory  of  Empire.  And  we 
can't  do  without  Empire." 

"  But  it  is  better  for  them  to  be  converted "  began 

Baxter  vaguely. 

"  Indubitably.  Perhaps  the  Esquimaux  consider  measles 
and  whooping  cough  rather  drastic  missionaries.  But  that 


"YOU    MEAN   TO   DO    IT?"  453 

it  not  our  fault.  We  do  our  best.  We  have  always  said  so. 
What  time  does  Selkirk  expect  to  start  in  the  morning?  " 

Selkirk  was  taking  the  police  dog-team  up  to  Fort  Mac- 
pherson  for  supplies,  if  any  could  be  spared  from  there ; 
and  Dick,  with  his  long  strong  sled  and  specially-picked 
line  of  huskies,  expected  to  keep  pace  with  him  so  far.  For 
he  was  an  expert  musher,  and  Andree  was  unusually  strong 
for  a  girl. 

"  D'rectly  after  breakfast.  You  ought  to  make  Mac- 
pherson  in  ten  or  eleven  sleeps,  I  guess.  Likely  you'll  put 
in  a  day  or  two  there  ?  " 

"  Not  longer  than  necessary  to  get  loaded  up  again — 
unless  Andree  happens  to  be  fagged  at  all." 

He  broke  off,  and  both  men  looked  at  Grange's  Andree 
where  she  sat  on  the  Polar  bear  rug  with  the  fire  from  the 
open  stove  dancing  on  her  warm  oval  cheeks  and  her  slen- 
der busy  hands. 

"  Dans    les   prisons    des    Nantes," 

she  sang,  and  Baxter's  eyes  caught  Dick's  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  went  back  to  his  work  with  his  hard,  wooden  face 
reddening  with  pity. 

And  the  pity  was  not  altogether,  nor  even  in  chief,  for 
Andree. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

"  THIS   PSYCHOLOGICAL    ADVENTURE  " 

THE  thin-gnawed  rind  of  a  red  sun  showed  just  above  the 
horizon  in  the  South.  It  lifted  little  higher  in  these  days 
of  the  silky  swishing  and  the  colourless  glearn  of  the  North- 
ern Lights  possessed  the  world  for  all  but  three  hours 
of  mid-winter,  and  the  strange  pallor  of  a  long  night  full 
daily. 

Andree  stopped  in  the  trail  and  turned  to  look  at  that 
red  curve  before  it  dropped  again.  She  could  look  straight 
into  it  without  blinking,  and  Dick  watched  her  as  she  stood, 
drawn  to  her  full  height,  with  the  hood  pushed  back  from 
her  face.  The  world  was  colourless,  motionless,  sound- 
less. In  a  little  while  their  breath  would  begin  to  crackle 
with  the  frost  as  it  had  done  last  night.  Just  now  the  two, 
heated  through  a  long  march  without  a  pause,  were  glad  to 
stand  a  moment  to  take  breath  again. 

In  the  lines  the  huskies  leaned  forward,  ears  pricked  and 
tongues  dripping.  To  the  south  a  yellow  snow-cloud 
banked  up  toward  the  zenith.  Against  the  wide  sweep  of 
snow  Andree's  small  young  figure  stood  lithe  and  vigorous, 
instinct  with  life.  But  her  face  was  sad:  sadder  than  Dick 
had  seen  it  since  he  came  to  her  in  the  cabin  of  the 
"  Rocket." 

"  What  is  it,  Andree  ?  "  he  said,  and  she  moved  instantly, 
smiling  at  him. 

"  I  did  wonder — this  place  where  there  is  no  life  and  no 
light — is  this  what  it  will  be  like  to  be  dead,  Dick?  " 

He  came  very  close  to  her  and  took  her  hand. 

"  Do  you  often  think  of  that,  Andree?  "  he  asked. 

"  Non.  Oh,  non.  I  cannot  think  all  the  to-morrows, 
they  are  too  many.  But — it  seemed  so,  perhaps." 

"Forget  about  it;"  he  patted  her  hand  gently.  "The 

454 


< 


"THIS    PSYCHOLOGICAL    ADVENTURE"     455 

sun  will  come  again  to-morrow,  you  know.     And  we  will 
see  it  more  every  day  as  we  go  south." 

"  But  it  is  not  the  sun  I  did  know.  And  these  are  not 
the  same  stars,  Dick." 

"  I  know.     But  we  will  get  back  to  them  again." 

"  Oh,  oui,"  she  said.  And  then  she  looked  at  Selkirk 
and  the  fat  Esquimaux  boy  swinging  ahead  round  the  bend 
in  the  river.  "  It  is  to-night  that  we  make  arrive  to 
Fort  Macpherson?"  she  asked. 

"  To-night.  Unless  you  stand  here  too  long.  Are  you 
tired,  Andree?  You  are  such  a  splendid  musher  that  I 
sometimes  forget  you're  only  a  girl." 

"  I  am  not  tired."  She  looked  at  him  gravely,  with  that 
last  red  light  on  her  face.  "  I  do  not  know  what  it  is, 
parceque  je  suis  tres  content.  I  did  not  think  ever  in  my 
life  to  have  you  near  me  for  so  long  time,  Dick.  What 
you  want  to  put  your  hand  up  that  way  for?  " 

"  You  are  so  very  pretty  that  I  think  I  am  afraid  of  your 
blinding  me,  Andree." 

The  joy  shown  over  her  face  suddenly.  Her  eyes 
sparkled,  and  she  laughed,  putting  her  hands  up  against  his 
neck. 

"  Ma  foi !  "  she  cried.  "  I  am  glad.  Now  I  do  forget 
that  ever  I  hated  you.  I  want  to  be  so  pretty  always  when 
you  do  look  at  me,  Dick." 

"  Don't !  Take  your  hands  down !  I  have  told  you  be- 
fore not  to  touch  me ! " 

She  let  him  go  instantly. 

"  Eh,  bien,"  she  said,  with  a  little  sigh,  and  Dick  looked 
at  her,  frowning. 

"  Why  are  you  always  obedient  to  me  and  not  to  the 
others  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Why — if  I  am  good  perhaps  one  day  you  will  love  me 
and  kiss  me  again — if  I  am  good,"  she  said. 

In  that  fast-fading  light  he  took  her  face  between  his 
hands,  turning  it  up  to  him. 

"  You  have  broken  very  many  men  in  your  time,"  he 
said.  "  Do  you  want  to  break  me,  too,  Grange's  Andree?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  kiss  me  again,"  she  said  simply. 

"  And  can't  you  understand  that  if  I  did — No.     I  can't 


456  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

kiss  you  any  more.  And  I  can't  wait  here  any  more  or 
we'll  freeze.  Come  on.  It  will  be  late  now  before  we  get 
to  the  Fort." 

The  sun  went  down,  and  through  the  long  pale  dusk 
which  is  not  like  any  light  anywhere  else  they  swung  for- 
ward with  the  sturdy  little  huskies  trotting  strongly.  The 
smell  of  far-off  snow  was  in  the  air,  damping  the  ringing 
chill  of  the  frost.  The  pallid  width  of  the  river  seemed 
rimless,  and  ahead  vague  ghostly  shadows  danced  and  ran 
as  the  Lights  overhead  flickered  up  and  sank  back.  And 
then,  on  the  naked  bank  of  the  Peel,  came  the  red  glow 
of  the  lights  of  Fort  Macpherson. 

Hensham  prided  himself  on  his  even  temper,  but  he  was 
upset  that  night. 

"  It's  a — a  devilish  thing  that  you've  got  to  do,  Heriot," 
he  said.  "  Ton  my  soul,  I  don't  know  how  you  have  the 
heart  to — stand  up  to  it." 

From  the  big  chair  by  Hensham's  stove  Dick  looked  up 
in  amused  mockery. 

"  Why  ?  "   he   asked. 

"Why?"  Hensham  exploded.  "Lord,  man;  she's 
lovely.  And  that  way  she  has  of " 

"  I  see.  Sin  is  only  sin  in  the  old  and  ugly.  Therefore 
Guinevere  didn't  sin.  Helen  didn't  sin.  Judith  didn't  sin. 
Salome — perhaps  we  may  grant  a  little  license  to  Salome. 
She  did  as  her  mother  told  her.  But  I  see  your  drift " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean/'  began  Hensham,  redden- 
ing. 

"  No?  But  I  know  what  you  mean.  We  don't  inter- 
pret the  person  through  the  sin,  you  see.  We  are  too  apt 
to  interpret  the  sin  through  the  person.  That  is  one  of 
the  fundamental  faults  in  what  someone  describes  as  '  this 
psychological  adventure  called  man.'  We  let  Romance  run 
away  with  us.  Because  a  woman  is  pretty  she  can't  be 
wicked." 

"  You  know  I  don't  mean  that.  But  this  isn't  quite  the 
same  thing " 

"  That  particular  case  never  is.  And  every  case  is  the 
particular  case,  isn't  it?  Hensham?" 

"  Good  Lord,"  said  Hensham,  walking  through  the  room, 
heatedly.  "  Haven't  you  a  heart  in  your  body  at  all, 
man  ?  " 


"THIS    PSYCHOLOGICAL    ADVENTURE"     457 

"  That  is  my  own  private  business,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  The  deuce  knows."  Hensham  looked  at  him  gloomily, 
"  I  doubt  if  any  one  thing  on  earth  is  a  man's  private 
business  only." 

"  It  is  until  he  is  weak  enough  to  show  that  he  possesses 
that  thing,"  said  Dick;  and  a  little  later,  in  his  own  room, 
he  said  it  again,  with  a  laugh  of  contempt  at  himself.  For 
he  had  been  using  these  arguments  on  himself  very  often 
of  late,  and  he  knew  the  value  of  them. 

Two  mornings  after  Andree  came  to  the  door  of  his 
room  and  talked  to  him  as  he  twisted  and  knotted  the 
thongs  of  his  outer  moccasins.  She  was  all  ready  for  the 
continuance  of  the  journey,  and  animation  sparkled  in  her 
as  she  chattered,  taking  no  heed  of  his  curt  replies.  At 
last  she  ran  to  him,  sliding  her  arms  about  him  as  he 
stooped. 

"I  do  love  you,"  she  whispered.  "Dick,  Dick;  je 
t'aime.  Ah!  Je  t'aime." 

His  hands  ceased  their  work.     He  did  not  move. 

"  You  know  how  cruel  I  am  being  to  you,  Andree,"  he 
said. 

"  Bien !  C'est  toi.  If  you  do  make  it  so — still  it  is 
you,"  she  said. 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  he  lifted  her  off 
and  stood  upright,  looking  out  straight  before  him. 

"  What  is  it?  "  she  asked.  Then  she  touched  him,  half- 
frightened.  "  Dick?  Is  it  that  you  are  seeck?" 

"  No."  He  looked  at  her  sharply,  and  then  looked  away 
again.  "No.  I  was  just  deciding  something,  Andree." 

"  And  is  it  now  made  sure?  "  she  asked. 

He  looked  at  her  again,  speaking  slowly. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.     It  is  now  made  sure." 

Hensham  himself  went  with  them  to  the  edge  of  the  win- 
ter portage  into  Arctic  Red  River. 

"  You'll  do  it  easily  in  the  day,"  he  said.  "  Only  thirty- 
five  miles,  and  the  trail  tramped  already.  You  certainly 
have  a  first-class  team,  too." 

His  friendliness  seemed  forced,  and  he  was  in  haste  to  be 
gone.  Dick  watched  him  swing  over  the  snow-hummocks 
that  hid  the  little  naked  houses  of  the  Fort,  and  then  he 
turned  to  Andree  with  a  smile. 

"  You  must  follow  me  very  closely  and  not  talk  at  all 


458  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

for  a  while/'  he  said.  "  For  we  are  going  round  past  Mac- 
pherson  again,  and  on  to  the  winter  trail  to  Dawson,  An- 
dree." 

"  Why  ?  "   she  asked,  half-startled. 

"  Because  I  can't  take  you  to  Fort  Saskatchewan,"  he 
said,  in  sudcTen  passion.  "  I  can't  do  it.  I  cannot  '  make 
it  so.'  No  man  could  with  your  face  near  him.  I  will 
get  you  through  the  Yukon  somehow,  and  bury  myself 
at  the  same  time." 

"  But  one  cannot  be  bury  while  one  is  live." 

"  Oh,  yes,  one  can.  Plenty  of  men  are  buried  while  they 
$re  alive.  What  are  you  looking  like  that  for?  " 

"  I  do  not  like  you  with  that  talk  in  your  voice,"  she 
Bald. 

He  drew  her  to  him  and  kissed  her. 

"  Is  that  better  ?  Now — mush,  Andree.  Quick.  I  must 
get  out  of  sight  of  Macpherson  as  soon  as  possible." 

He  winced  as  he  said  the  words.  They  drove  his  posi- 
tion home  to  him  so  sharply.  For  the  rest  of  his  life 
now  he  would  have  to  get  out  of  sight  of  all  things  which 
represented  law  and  order  as  soon  as  possible. 

Keeping  in  the  shelter  of  the  little  rough  snow-hummocks 
and  the  sparse  vegetation  they  crossed  the  Peel;  passed  the 
barracks  again,  and  struck  on  to  the  Peel  Portage  which 
led  by  wild  and  rugged  mountain  ways  into  the  Yukon. 
Dick  knew  the  entrance  of  the  Portage  only,  and  the  later 
trail  not  at  all.  But  he  had  a  good  map  and  a  compass, 
and  it  was  almost  certain  that  he  could  pick  up  an  Indian 
as  guide  later  on,  even  if  he  should  lose  the  trail,  which 
was  not  likely.  He  had  a  genius  for  finding  his  way, 
and  there  were  reasons  now  why  he  should  not  make  any 
mistakes.  He  had  plenty  of  provisions,  and  he  and  Andree 
were  in  perfect  health.  Therefore,  there  was  no  danger 
to  be  feared  except  from  the  barracks.  He  smiled  grimly 
as  he  swung  along,  breaking  trail  with  a  heavy  lurching 
step.  Hensham  might  talk  windily  enough;  but  he  was 
not  the  man  to  fling  away  reputation  and  position  to  do 
this  thing  which  Dick  was  now  doing.  But  there  was  no 
pride  in  Dick  that  he  was  doing  it.  He  went  on  with  face 
set  and  strong,  lunging  steps,  making  his  stops  short  and 
infrequent.  He  knew  that  he  dared  not  stop.  He  dared 


PSYCHOLOGICAL    ADVENTURE"    459 

not  think.     And  yet,  despite  himself,  that  keen,  unflagging 
brain  of  his  would  think. 

He  believed  that  he  had  faced  this  matter  fully  enough 
in  that  until  the  future  becomes  the  present,  he  had  not 
realised  the  last  two  months.  Now  he  knew,  as  every  man 
knows,  what  it  meant  to  him.  The  fire  of  Andree's  words 
and  her  beauty  maddened  his  hot  blood,  and  he  knew  that 
it  would  do  so  again.  And  he  knew  that  the  chill  of  com- 
mon-sense would  continue  to  thrust  in  between,  congealing 
that  hot  blood  as  it  was  doing  now.  What  was  it  that  he 
meant  to  do?  Why  did  he  mean  to  do  it?  Andree  would 
never  understand;  never  realise.  She  swung  after  him  as 
unconcernedly  now  as  she  had  done  all  the  way  up  from 
Herschel.  Life  meant  no  more  to  her  than  the  day. 
Death  meant  no  more.  It  was  a  vague  thing  which  she 
would  not  think  of ;  which  she  could  not  think  of  because  all 
greatness  had  no  meaning  for  her.  She  was  stupid,  utterly 
and  entirely  stupid,  and  he  knew  it.  And  those  mocking 
words  which  he  had  said  to  Hensham  about  her  beauty 
were  true,  and  he  knew  that  also. 

Without  that  inconsequent  alluring  wild-wood  bloom  of 
her  no  man  would  ever  have  looked  twice  at  Grange's  An- 
dree. He  would  not.  If  Andree  had  been  like  Moosta  to 
look  at  he  would  not  be  doing  this  now.  Life  had  hardened 
him  too  much  through  the  work  which  he  had  had  to  do 
for  ordinary  pity  to  obscure  his  judgment. 

What  was  controlling  him  now?  It  was  not  pity.  It 
was  not  love.  It  was  not  a  sense  of  justice.  It  was  just 
that  lawless  call  of  the  will-o'-the-wisp  again.  It  was  the 
old  breakdown.  That  it  would  not  be  for  more  than  the 
moment  he  knew  well..  There  was  neither  rule  nor  con- 
vention in  this  world  would  ever  bind  Grange's  Andree. 
And  he  would  not  keep  her  with  him  and  guard  her.  He 
knew  himself  too  well  to  think  that.  And  if  he  let  her  go 
what  was  there  for  her  then?  Tempest  had  said:  "  I  hold 
you  responsible  for  her  till  the  end  of  time."  Tempest 
had  said:  "Death  will  be  easier  for  her  than  life."  If 
Tempest  who  loved  her  had  chosen  so  for  her;  if  the 
natural  law  of  punishment  for  crime  had  chosen  so  for  her, 
by  what  right  did  he  interfere? 

He  tramped  on,  breaking  trail  grimly,  with  the  dull  dusk 


460  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

shoulders.  He  did  not  notice  the  snow.  He  was  seeing 
into  his  heart  with  that  piercing  self-knowledge  which  sel- 
dom failed  him,  although  he  as  seldom  walked  by  its  light. 
He  had  never  had  anything  but  contempt  for  the  man  who 
dared  not  face  the  sting  in  order  to  snatch  the  honey  of  life. 
He  had  known  keenly  what  he  meant  to  give  up  for  Jenni- 
fer. But  the  whole  of  his  mind  and  body  was  eager  and  re- 
solved to  do  it.  He  was  giving  these  things  up  now  for 
Grange's  Andree.  He  was  wrecking  his  life  for  no  great 
all-conquering  passion;  no  sense  of  justice;  no  honest  un- 
selfishness. He  was  doing  it  because  he  was  weak ;  because 
there  was  nothing  in  the  core  of  him  which  could  stand 
against  idle  temptation. 

The  snow  thickened.  It  hung  on  his  eyelashes,  half- 
blinding  him.  The  trail  was  growing  more  hilly  and  rough, 
and  night  was  closing  in  with  a  bleak  wind.  But  not  once 
in  the  short  halts  which  he  made  did  he  speak  to  the  girl 
behind  him.  She  did  not  mind.  That  kiss  had  filled  up 
her  world  for  her  again,  and  she  would  have  trod  after 
him  beside  the  dogs  until  weariness  forced  her  to  her 
knees.  She  wanted  nothing  but  the  sight  of  those  broad, 
straight-held  shoulders  and  the  memory  of  that  kiss  on  her 
mouth. 

Where  a  few  snow-heavy  pines  made  a  thicker  blurr  close 
at  hand  Dick  stopped  with  a  jerk,  suddenly  realising  the 
world  around  him  again. 

"We  must  camp  here,  Andree,"  he  said  shortly,  and  be- 
gan to  break  the  branches,  knocking  the  snow  out  of  them, 
and  kicking  it  aside  from  the  earth.  He  spoke  little  that 
night,  and  repulsed  all  Andree's  overtures.  And  long  af- 
ter Andree  had  curled  herself  in  her  deerskin  robes  at  the 
back  of  the  tent  Dick  sat  with  his  back  against  the  sled 
and  watched  the  smoky  fire  and  thought. 

His  work  seemed  hateful  to  him  now.  The  past  in  which 
he  had  loved  Jennifer  and  Tempest  seemed  hateful.  He 
wanted  to  cut  himself  free  from  it  as  he  had  done  with 
other  pasts.  Against  the  whirling  snow  Tempest's  face 
shaped  itself,  with  the  square  strong  forehead  and  the 
sword  of  justice  in  his  eyes.  He  laughed  at  it.  Through 
his  effort  to  help  Tempest  this  tangle  had  come  around  his 
tfeet.  Who  was  Tempest  to  interfere  with  him  now?  And 


"THIS    PSYCHOLOGICAL    ADVENTURE"    461 

if  Jennifer  had  loved  and  trusted  him  as  Andree  did  he 
would  not  be  here.  Who  was  she  to  interfere  with  him 
now  ?  Then  he  suddenly  realised  that  she  did  not  interfere. 
She  seemed  very  far-off  and  dim.  The  sound  of  her  voice, 
the  personality  of  her,  the  very  features  of  her  face  eluded 
him  when,  with  a  start  of  half-alarm,  he  tried  to  fix  them 
in  his  mind  as  clearly  as  they  had  always  lived  there.  At 
each  effort  they  evaded  him  more  completely.  He  knew 
how  common  such  lapses  of  memory  are.  He  knew  that 
the  strain  of  his  mind  and  the  weariness  of  his  body  were 
partly  accountable.  And  yet,  with  that  elusive  supersti- 
tion which  moves  more  or  less  in  every  man's  blood,  he 
felt  that  it  was  a  final  thing.  He  had  denied  and  defied 
her,  and  she  had  left  him. 

He  got  up,  walking  out  of  the  tent  to  take  the  snow  on 
his  face.  The  huskies,  curled  nose  to  tail,  glanced  up, 
bright-eyed.  But  he  did  not  see  them. 

"Jennifer!"  he  cried,  and  the  word  fell  dead  without 
meaning.  "  Jennifer !  "  he  said  again.  And  then  he  stood 
still  with  hands  clenched  up. 

Ever  since  he  had  left  her  he  had  fought  the  hold  which 
she  had  on  him.  He  had  cursed  it  and  defied  it,  mad  with 
himself  because  he  loved  her  still.  And  now  she  had  gone. 
She  had  gone.  His  tired,  half-dizzy  brain  fumbled  with 
the  thought.  He  flung  his  hands  out.  "  By  God,"  he  said. 
"  I  have  got  to  go  back  to  you  again.  I  have  got  to  go 
back  to  you,  Jennifer !  " 

In  the  yellow  morning  the  snow  fell  still.  The  trail  by 
which  they  had  come  would  be  half  obliberated  already. 
But  it  never  would  be  obliterated  in  his  mind.  There  was 
feverish  haste  in  him  now  to  turn  back.  And  then,  as  he 
came  from  the  tent,  Andree  met  him  brilliant-eyed  and 
brilliant-cheeked. 

"Ah,  Dick.  I  did  dream  you  were  away,"  she  cried, 
and  flung  her  arms  close  round  his  neck.  "  I  do  love  you. 
I  do  love  you,"  she  whispered.  For  a  moment  Dick  stood 
still,  with  eyes  set  and  face  white.  Then  he  freed  himself, 
stepping  back  with  a  little  smile. 

"  I  wonder  what  you  would  think  if  you  knew  what  it  is 
that  you  love,  Grange's  Andree,"  he  said.  "  Supposing 
that  you  could  ever  think  or  ever  know — or  ever  love,  per-* 


462  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

haps.     And  I  wonder  what  you  will  say  when  I  tell  you 
that  we  must  go  back  to  Fort  Saskatchewan  after  all." 

She  went  red,  then  white.  His  repulse  had  roused  her 
temper,  and  fury  and  terror  swept  her  like  the  wind  on  a 
harp. 

"  I  will  not/'  she  screamed.  "  I  will  not.  You  can 
make  me  keel,  but  I  will  not." 

He  moved  past  her  and  began  to  kick  up  the  tent-pegs. 

"  Get  your  things  together/'  he  said.     "  And  be  quick." 

"  I  will  not,"  she  screamed  again. 

He  made  no  answer.  He  struck  the  tent,  rolled  it,  and 
stowed  the  cooking-box  and  the  shovel  and  axe  on  the  sled. 
The  snow  blew  in  his  face,  and  the  trail  would  be  lessen- 
ing each  moment,  and  in  this  heavy  storm  he  could  see  no 
land-marks.  Andree  stood  with  her  blue  hands  clenched 
up,  and  the  snow  wet  on  her  face.  Then  she  hurled  her- 
self down  full-length,  sobbing,  and  beating  the  snow  into 
spray  about  her.  Dick  left  his  work  and  went  to  her,  rec- 
ognising grimly  that  just  retribution  had  caught  him  very 
soon.  But  it  was  long  before  he  could  get  her  on  her  feet, 
because  he  would  not  employ  the  only  method  which  she 
wanted.  Wisdom  told  him  to  stay  in  camp  until  the  storm 
broke.  Irritated  temper  told  him  that  he  could  not  sit  still 
for  twenty  or  thirty  hours  with  Andree.  He  got  away  at 
last,  with  Andree  beside  the  sled.  She  snapped  at  him 
like  a  husky  when  he  spoke  to  her,  and  he  went  to  the 
lead  in  silence.  Among  the  pines  and  the  rough  spurs 
the  winding  trail  was  difficult  to  follow.  Drifts  blocked  it; 
and  the  wind  which  he  had  kept  on  his  left  cheek  began 
to  blow  in  whirlwinds  round  them,  and  the  trail  was  gone. 
But  he  would  not  believe  that  he  could  lose  himself  on 
this  comparatively  easy  piece  of  track,  and  until  the  dogs 
were  too  weary  to  go  further  he  plodded  on  in  the  deepen- 
ing snow,  making  camp  at  last  almost,  as  he  guessed,  within 
sight  of  Macpherson. 

Utter  exhaustion  and  sullen  anger  kept  them  both  silent 
that  night,  and  Dick  slept  like  a  log,  waking  sometimes  in 
the  dim  half-light  which  was  all  the  day  gave  now.  For, 
though  south  from  Herschel  by  more  than  two  hundred 
miles,  they  were  still  well  within  the  Arctic  Circle,  and  at 
Herschel  the  sun  would  have  ceased  to  lift  above  the 


"THIS    PSYCHOLOGICAL    ADVENTURE"     463 

horizon  at  all.  The  dark  snow-shadow  was  lessened  by 
the  strong  bitter  wind  that  tore  through  it;  and  Dick  went 
out,  swaying  against  the  blast,  and  drawing  his  furs  tight 
round  him,  to  take  his  bearings.  In  the  unearthly  pallor 
everything  looked  unnatural.  But  to  Dick  it  was  worse 
than  that.  It  was  unfamiliar.  These  hooded  shapes  romuJ 
him  were  higher  ranges  than  he  had  passed ;  the  deep  ravine 
on  his  left  was  new;  and  endless  misty  slope  up  which  he 
had  probably  come  in  last  night's  storm  was  not  on  the 
Macphersan  trail.  At  some  sharp  bend  in  the  trail  he  had 
overshot  it,  and  he  would  have  to  work  back  and  forth 
over  the  ground  until  he  found  it.  This  did  not  lighten 
the  anger  which  had  gone  to  bed  with  him,  and  he  called 
Andree  roughly;  and,  receiving  no  answer,  strode  into  the 
tent,  jerking  away  her  pile  of  deerskin  robes. 

They  were  cold  and  empty,  and  he  went  out  hurriedly, 
shouting  her  name  incessantly.  The  rugged  mountain- 
flanks  and  snow-swathed  distances  flung  it  back  at  him 
insolently,  and  in  the  following  silence  terror  seized  on 
him.  Andree  had  run  away  from  him;  run  in  her  fury  or 
her  grief  straight  into  those  eternal  huge  solitudes  where 
she  would  be  no  more  than  a  bird  blown  out  to  sea  on  a 
windy  night.  He  looked  round  for  her  snow-shoe  tracks, 
found  them  where  the  storm  whirled  up  the  powdery  snow, 
fed  the  dogs  and  himself,  struck  camp  and  prepared  to  fol- 
low her.  Had  he  been  certain  of  his  own  position  he  would 
have  gone  on  to  Macpherson  for  help.  But  as  matters 
stood  he  dared  not  waste  time.  He  believed  that  she  would 
not  go  far.  The  loneliness  would  soon  call  her  back  to 
him,  and  in  his  wrath  he  knew  that  he  would  want  to  strike 
her  when  she  came. 

With  the  bleak  wind  buffeting  him  and  his  face  cut  by 
the  sandy  snow-particles  he  followed  up  to  a  bare  scrap 
that  launched  itself  against  the  sky.  She  had  gone  fur- 
ther than  he  expected.  Then,  on  the  snow-wreathed  rim 
of  it,  he  flung  himself  back  with  a  sharp  gasp.  Grange's 
Andree  had  indeed  gone  further  than  he  expected.  The 
smudged  snow  and  broken  twigs  on  the  edge  of  the  scarp 
attested  it.  Dick  was  unnerved  for  a  moment  only.  Then 
he  climbed  a  spruce  that  lifted  near  by,  hacking  off  the 
branches  with  all  the  force  which  he  dared  put  into  the 


464  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

brittle  steel.  He  left  it  at  last,  a  two-winged  lobstick,  such 
as  the  Indians  use,  and  turned,  seeking  a  way  down  the 
hill-flank.  From  below  that  landmark  would  give  his  posi- 
tion. It  was  not  likely  that  Andree  would  be  killed  by 
the  fall  into  soft  snow.  But  it  was  possible  that  she  might 
be  smothered,  and  it  was  very  certain  that  she  would  be 
starved  if  he  did  not  find  her  in  time. 

It  was  on  the  second  evening  that  he  forced  his  way 
through  a  narrow-snow-choked  gut  into  that  ravine  where 
Andree  had  fallen.  The  storm  raged  still,  and  it  was  more 
than  likely  that  he  would  not  get  out  by  the  way  he  had 
come ;  and  when,  along  the  ravine-bottom,  he  saw  something 
flutter,  like  a  leaf  in  the  wind,  he  stood  still,  grasping 
his  whip  and  taking  long  breaths  through  his  nostrils.  If 
Andree  had  come  to  him  then  he  would  have  beaten  her; 
but  it  was  an  hour  before  his  shouts  and  chasing  brought 
her  to  him,  reeling  like  a  drunken  man,  and  with  wolfish 
eyes,  and  high  cheekbones  showing.  Silently  he  put  food 
into  her  hands,  watching  her  tear  it  and  swallow  it  savagely. 
Once  she  looked  up,  saw  his  face,  and  looked  away  again. 
Then  she  jerked  off  her  snow-shoe. 

"  Broke,"  she  said,  and  handed  it  to  him. 
He  spliced  it  with  a  tough  twig  of  hemlock,  called  up  the 
dogs,  and  turned  back  the  way  he  had  come.  He  took 
less  notice  of  her  than  if  she  had  been  a  dog,  and  she  fol- 
lowed him,  trembling,  yet  defiant;  shaken  with  her  grief 
and  her  misery.  At  the  gut  he  stopped.  There  was  no 
way  out  there  any  more.  For  a  few  minutes  he  stood, 
staring  round  on  the  steep  rock-walls  misty  in  the  drifting 
snow.  Then  he  said: 

"  Are  you  hurt  anywhere,  Andree  ?  " 
"  Non,"  she  said  with  quivering  lips. 
"  Can  you  keep  on  walking  ?  " 
"  Oui." 

A  little  longer  he  stood,  looking  round  him.  Then,  with 
a  half-sigh,  as  though  he  knew  the  chance  of  that  choice, 
he  left  the  gap  and  went  down  the  ravine. 

Dick  knew  little  of  mountain-work;  and  in  these  fierce 
storms,  and  this  deep  snow  which  hid  the  lie  of  the  rivers, 
the  little  he  knew  was  worthless.  By  his  compass  he 
worked  east  when  ravines  or  broken  ledges  of  rock  or  im- 


"THIS  PSYCHOLOGICAL  ADVENTURE"  465 

passable  mountains  permitted  it.  But  day  by  day  he  grew 
to  know  that  want  of  food  was  going  to  call  the  time  before 
the  east  he  looked  for  was  won.  Through  the  days  that 
swelled  to  a  week,  to  a  fortnight,  he  took  no  notice  of  An- 
dree.  His  own  bitter  anger  and  despair  blackened  the 
world  for  him  beyond  all  pity  and  mercy. 

Other  men  had  disgraced  the  uniform  they  wore.  Other 
men  had  been  privately  branded  among  their  fellows.  Dick 
had  had  no  pity  for  them.  Now  men  would  have  no  pity 
for  him.  Whether  his  body  were  found  or  not,  he  would 
be  recognised  as  a  traitor  and  a  deserter.  He  had  no 
business  off  the  Mackenzie  route,  and  no  man  could  get 
lost  on  the  Mackenzie.  If  he  had  left  that  trail  he  had  left 
it  for  some  ill-doing,  and  all  men  would  know  it.  All  men 
would  be  ready  to  blacken  his  name — the  name  of  the  bril- 
liant lone-patrol  man  who  had  thrown  away  his  honour  and 
the  honour  of  the  Force  for  an  Indian  girl.  All  men  would 
know.  And  they  would  laugh.  Andree,  plodding  silent 
behind  him,  wondered  vaguely  at  his  look  and  tone  when 
he  had  to  speak  to  her.  But  it  was  not  until  the  night 
when  he  killed  the  first  dog  that  she  broke  down. 

"  Dick,"  she  cried.  "  Dick.  I  make  sorry.  Oh — I 
sorry.  Dick — love  me." 

He  turned  from  the  kettle  where  he  boiled  the  meat. 
The  dogs  slunk  round  him,  licking  their  lips  after  their 
unholy  meal,  and  he  looked  gaunt  and  cruel  and  lean  as 
they. 

"  You  have  no  need  to  be  sorry,"  he  said.  "  You  may 
find  it  an  easier  death  than  the  other.  And  you  have  re- 
venged yourself  on  me." 

"  But  I  do  not  understand.  Oh,  Dick,  be  kind  to  me  or 
T  will  make  die."  . 

"  You  surely  understand  that  we  are  both  going  to  die 
in  any  case.  It  can  make  no  difference  whether  I  am  kind 
to  you  or  not." 

He  brought  her  the  food,  and  she  took  it  in  silence.  She 
was  afraid  of  him,  but  not  of  anything  else.  Life  had 
come  to  mean  to  her  nothing  but  a  stumbling  on  behind 
that  swinging  figure  as  it  had  come  to  mean  to  Dick  noth- 
ing but  a  horror  of  the  disgraced  name  which  he  must 
leave  behind  him.  The  wind  beat  her,  or  the  sun  dazzled, 


466  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

or  the  frost  scarred  her  skin ;  and  always  the  weight  of  the 
snow  drew  at  her  knees  until  one  day  it  drew  her  down 
into  it  and  she  lay  still.  Dick  was  shaking  her  when  she 
came  back  to  understanding  again,  and  she  believed  that  his 
eyes  were  softer.  But  it  might  have  been  that  her  dulled 
senses  made  them  seem  so. 

"  It  would  have  been  kinder  to  leave  you  there,  Grange's 
Andree/'  he  said.  "  But  I  have  never  been  kind  to  you, 
have  I?" 

"  Peut-etre  one  day  you  be  kind  again/'  she  said,  and 
fell  into  step  once  more. 

That  day  came  when  only  two  dogs  hauled  the  sled  which 
held  little  more  than  the  kettle,  the  deer-skin  robes,  and  the 
raw  hides  which  Dick  gave  the  famished  animals  to  chew 
on  at  a  halt.  It  was  the  Indian  in  Andree  which  had  kept 
her  up  so  long.  But  the  more  volatile  French  blood  was 
failing.  It  gave  way  at  last  when,  on  a  gentle  slope  by 
a  thick  clump  of  firs,  her  courage  failed,  and  she  slid 
down  in  the  snow. 

Something  which  he  did  not  understand  made  Dick  turn. 
Then  he  went  back  to  her,  dropping  the  harness  with  which 
he  helped  the  dogs  to  pull.  She  looked  up  at  him — gladly, 
as  he  thought. 

"  No  more,  Dick,"  she  said.     "  No  more." 

He  gathered  her  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  into  the 
comparative  warmth  of  the  spreading  firs.  Here  he  made 
camp;  lighting  a  large  fire,  and  wrapping  her  in  the  deer 
robes. 

"Mais — j'ai  froid,"  she  whispered;  and  he  drew  her 
close  into  his  arms  beside  the  fire,  although  there  was  little 
heat  in  his  starved  body  to  strengthen  hers.  She  smiled 
slightly,  with  her  eyes  shut,  and  he  looked  down  on  her 
unflinchingly. 

The  men  who  had  loved  her  would  not  have  recognised 
Grange's  Andree  now.  Hunger  and  privation  had  done 
their  work.  The  dog's  meat  had  caused  sores  to  break 
out  on  the  skin  of  both,  and  their  lips  were  cracked  deeply, 
and  their  skin  peeling  in  places.  But  on  the  girl's  face 
was  a  content  that  did  not  show  in  the  man's.  Dick  re- 
membered that  portfolio  full  of  Andree's  glowing  youth, 
and  for  the  moment  he  felt  glad.  They  would  live  long 


"THIS    PSYCHOLOGICAL    ADVENTURE"     467 

after  the  trail  had  taken  both  painter  and  painted.  In 
his  arms  Andree  stirred,  looking  up  with  those  wide  eyes 
that  had  lost  their  coquetry  at  last. 

"  It  makes  so  dark,"  she  whispered. 

"  It  will  soon  be  light  for  you,  Andree."  His  words 
broke  with  a  sudden  jar  of  amaze  and  anger.  That  was 
Jennifer's  creed;  never  his.  He  had  no  belief  in  anything 
beyond  this  life  which  he  and  Andree  had  sold  so  dearly. 

"  I  cannot  rest."  She  spoke  in  French,  stirring  fretfully. 
"  I  am  so  tired,  and  I  cannot  rest."  She  plucked  at  the 
folds  of  the  deerskin.  "  That's  it,"  she  said,  and  for  a 
moment  her  voice  was  stronger.  "  Take  it  away,  Dick. 
It  is  too  much  the  wild  life.  It  is  the  deer  that  run  and 
run  and  never  be  tired.  It  will  not  let  me  go.  It  is  too 
live.  Take  it  off,  Dick." 

Dick  obeyed.  He  understood  how  the  wild  nature  in 
her  was  having  its  last  struggle.  She  smiled,  feeling  his 
arms  closer  round  her. 

"  That  better,"  she  murmured.     "  I  do  love  you,  Dick." 

"  I  know,  Andree,"  he  said,  very  low. 

For  a  long  while  she  lay  silent.  The  cold  was  freez- 
ing into  Dick,  numbing  his  brain  and  tingling  along  his 
limbs.  The  virility  in  him  rebelled  against  it,  and  he  heard 
his  voice  speaking  sharply. 

"  I  won't  die,"  it  said.     "  By  God !     I  won't  die." 

Then  he  saw  that  Andree  was  looking  at  him  wistfully. 
He  understood,  and  he  stooped  his  head,  and  kissed  her 
twice  and  again. 

"  Ah ! "  she  said,  with  a  long  sigh  of  happiness.  One 
shiver  ran  through  her;  her  still  face  twitched  once.  And 
presently  he  rose  and  wrapped  her  again  in  the  deerskin 
which  would  trouble  her  wild  heart  no  more. 

Beside  the  fire  he  stood  still,  blowing  on  his  numbed  fin- 
gers and  holding  them  to  the  fitful  blaze.  And  between  the 
heavy  boles  of  the  firs  he  saw  a  shadow  pass.  The  blood 
rushed  to  his  temples,  blinding  his  eyes.  Was  it  help  at 
last?  The  shadow  passed  again.  It  seemed  vaguely 
familiar.  What  was  that  connection  in  his  brain  between 
the  night  of  death  on  which  he  had  first  heard  the  name 
of  Grange's  Andree  and  this  hour  when  he  had  seen  her 
for  the  last  time?  It  was  a  threat  of  some  kind — and  then 


468  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

he  remembered  that  big  Irishman  who  had  died  on  the 
Moon-Dance.  O'Hara  had  promised  to  come  back  to  the 
man  who  spoke  ill  of  Grange's  Andree,  and  he  was  keeping 
his  word. 

Dick  stood  still,  pressing  his  hands  over  his  eyes.  The 
part  of  his  brain  which  was  still  ^lear  understood  that 
this  fantasy  was  born  of  that  nerve-connection  and  of  the 
weakness  of  his  body  only.  But  he  did  not  know  how  long 
he  was  going  to  believe  that.  In  a  sudden  spasm  of  terror 
he  dropped  h'is  hand  to  the  revolver  in  his  belt.  But  he 
did  not  pull  it  out.  All  his  life  he  had  denounced  that  way 
out  of  trouble  as  cowardice.  He  had  betrayed  and  broken 
and  destroyed  enough.  He  would  not  let  go  that  last  hold 
on  manhood  while  any  power  in  him  could  help  it. 

But  ever  after  that  day  he  went  on  with  O'Hara  stalking 
him. 

The  mercilessness  of  this  great  Northland  which  he  had 
served  so  long  became  a  tangible  thing  to  him  now.  He 
had  been  her  lover  through  many  golden  moonlights  and 
many  sunny  days,  and  at  last  she  had  turned  on  him, 
mocking  his  puny  struggles,  watching  the  desperate  hope 
which  struggled  for  breath,  and  quenching  the  sparks  of 
his  life,  one  by  one.  Scarp  and  bluff  and  rocky  ridge 
took  shapes  that  bowed  and  gibbered  at  him;  wind  whistled 
elfin  cries  through  the  dark.  Solitude  had  never  seemed  so 
awful  and  so  relentless  until  he  heard  one  thin  voice  piping 
incoherencies  into  it  and  traced  that  voice  back  to  his  own 
lips.  This  shock  brought  him  back  for  a  moment  to  realisa- 
tion that  he  was  still  walking,  although  it  was  many,  many 
centuries  since  Andree  died ;  many,  many  centuries  since 
he  had  had  anything  to  eat.  He  tried  to  recollect  what  had 
happened  to  the  sled  and  the  two  remaining  dogs,  standing 
still  to  steady  his  reeling  brain  for  the  effort.  And  then 
O'Hara  came  near  and  he  hurried  on. 

Never  in  all  these  centuries  could  he  see  O'Hara  fully. 
Sometimes  he  would  stop  and  turn  sharply,  but  the  man 
was  always  just  beyond  the  edge  of  eyesight.  And  yet 
he  never  failed  to  drop  in  close  behind  as  soon  as  Dick  went 
on.  He  was  the  only  thing  real  in  this  whirling  world 
of  shadows,  and  presently  he  ceased  to  be  O'Hara.  It  was 
the  hound  of  his  self-will  and  his  unbelief  and  his  evil 


"THIS    PSYCHOLOGICAL    ADVENTURE"    469 

passions  which  chased  him  in  the  shape  of  O'Hara,  and 
fear  lest  that  hound  should  catch  him  lying  down  kept  him 
on  his  feet.  He  threw  away  his  coat,  his  mitts,  everything 
which  meant  weight.  He  did  not  realise  cold  or  weariness 
any  longer,  and  yet  he  would  have  fallen  down  and  died  a 
hundred  times  but  for  the  dogging  thing  behind  him. 

It  chased  him  on,  reeling  and  stumbling  and  muttering; 
more  afraid  of  that  hound  generated  by  his  own  sins  than 
he  had  ever  been  afraid  of  his  life.  Whether  the  days 
passed  or  only  hours  he  could  not  tell.  Once  he  heard  his 
voice  calling  again,  sharpened  by  'the  stress  of  ultimate 
need. 

"  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us,"  it  said.  "  Christ  have 
mercy  upon  us." 

They  were  the  old  prayers  of  his  boyhood,  sounding 
again  from  lips  and  heart  long  unfamiliar  with  them.  How 
his  small  bare  knees  used  to  ache  on  the  hard  church 
cushions,  and  how  the  bees  used  to  hum  in  the  lilacs  be- 
yond the  window 

"  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us.  Christ  have  mercy  upon 
us " 

And  then  O'Hara  came  very  close  to  his  shoulder,  and 
the  nameless  dread  chased  him  over  a  little  hill  and  into  a 
fir  coppice  where  a  fire  blazed,  searing  his  aching  eyes. 
Then  a  dog  sprang  out,  and  he  snatched  at  it,  and  fell 
over  it,  and  lay  still. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

"  WHAT  ETERNAL  CHILDREN  WE  ARE  " 

"  So  you  are  really  going  to  condescend  to  know  us  again," 
said  Hensham. 

Dick  moved  his  head  irritably.  He  did  not  want  to  be 
disturbed.  This  warm  peace  which  flowed  through  and 
over  every  part  of  him  was  not  a  thing  which  a  man  parts 
with  lightly.  He  lay  there  in  an  absolute  acceptance  of 
contented  inertia.  Why  not?  Why  not?  Dimly  he  knew 
that  long  ago  he  had  submitted  body  and  soul  to  some  great 
suffering — the  fires  of  hell  of  the  crushing  bergs  of  the 
Pole.  He  did  not  remember  which;  and  it  did  not  matter. 
They  had  beaten  and  refined  the  evil  out  of  him,  and  he  had 
come  through  to  some  place  of  laughter  and  golden  sun- 
shine where  Tempest  was,  young  and  bright-eyed  and 
thrilling  still  with  his  ideals ;  and  where  Jennifer  was, 
with  sweet  eyes,  no  longer  red,  but  merry,  and  lips  that 
kissed  his  eyelids  until  he  saw  all  things  new  and  beauti- 
ful, and  that  kissed  his  mouth  until  he  laughed  from  sheer 
light-hearted  gladness. 

Something  was  disturbing  him  in  that  world  now,  and  it 
made  him  angry.  He  set  his  teeth  against  the  hard  thing 
which  continued  to  thrust  into  itself  his  mouth,  and  at  last 
in  suddenly  roused  wrath  he  spoke  to  it. 

"  Get  out  of  my  mouth,"  he  said ;  and  then  the  hot  broth 
took  its  swift  way  down  his  throat,  and  his  eyes  flashed 
open. 

"  Ah ! "  he  said,  and  Hensham  laughed  as  he  refilled 
the  spoon. 

"  Guess  that's  the  proper  persuader,"  he  said.  "  But 
you  must  go  slow,  Heriot.  If  there's  any  belief  in  the 
divine  luck  of  occurrence  you  didn't  come  to  our  wood-camp 
to  peter  out  now.  But  you're  weak.  Heavens,  man,  you 
are  weak." 

Dick  did  not  care  what  Hensham  thought.  He  went 

470 


"  WHAT  ETERNAL  CHILDREN  WE  ARE  "    471 

back  into  his  dreamland  when  the  spoon  ceased  to  empty 
itself  down  his  throat,  and  vaguely  he  sought  for  the  utter 
peace  of  it  again.  But  that  was  not  to  be.  Life  was  stir- 
ring in  him  now,  and  when,  towards  evening,  he  looked  up 
and  spoke,  his  senses  were  sharpening.  Anderson  was  on 
guard ;  but  he  called  Hensham,  and  Hensham  came,  bringing 
his  strong  vigorous  presence  into  the  misty  greyness  which 
hedged  Dick. 

"  Here's  some  more  soup,"  said  Hensham,  and  went  to 
work  promptly  with  spoon  and  bowl.  Then  he  propped 
Dick  with  pillows  and  gave  him  leave  to  talk. 

"  Not  that  I  imagine  you'll  have  much  to  say  just  yet," 
he  remarked.  "  You  came  pretty  near  finding  us  drawing 
up  your  epitaph,  Heriot.  When  we  heard  that  you  hadn't 
been  seen  on  the  Mackenzie  we  guessed  what  had  hap- 
pened." 

Dick  shut  his  eyes.  The  voice  was  surelv  friendly ;  but 
in  this  dim  light  he  could  not  tell  what  the  face  was  saying, 
and  sheer  physical  weakness  made  him  afraid  to  look. 

"  What — did  happen  ?  "  he  asked  slowly. 

"  Why,  I  guess  you  know  best."  Hensham  laughed. 
"  We  figured  out  that  the  girl  ran  away  from  you  and 
you  went  right  after  her  without  coming  back  for  help. 
I've  heard  that  you  always  defied  Providence  when  you 
had  a  chance.  And  then — well,  you  got  lost,  of  course. 
But  I  want  to  know  what  happened  to  her  ?  " 

"  She  ran  away — she  ran  away "  Dick  tried  to 

remember;  but  his  thoughts  were  in  flux,  and  he  could  not 
get  beyond  the  lead  which  Hensham's  words  had  given  him. 

"  There ! "  Hensham  spoke  triumphantly  to  someone 
unseen.  "  What  did  I  tell  you,  Baskerville !  I  said  he'd 
come  out  with  a  clean  sheet  all  right.  You  go  to  sleep 
again,  Heriot.  Lord,  he's  as  weak  as  a  day-old  puppy." 

The  little  room  shook  with  the  strong  tread  of  life 
going  out  from  it;  and  Dick  lay  still,  hovering  yet  on  the 
edge  of  that  life  and  unsure  if  he  were  man  or  only  spirit. 
The  long  starvation  and  the  long  suffering  had  taken  more 
from  him  than  would  come  back  at  once,  and  the  memories 
that  drifted  through  his  brain  were  not  acute  enough  to 
hurt  him.  There  was  the  knowledge  somewhere  that  they 


472  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

ought  to  hurt,  that  they  would  hurt,  by  and  by,  but  there 
was  a  strange  sense  of  peace  and  healing  on  him  now. 
Words  without  end  or  beginning  were  sliding  through  his 
mind.  Some  of  them  said:  "  Can  only  be  bought  back  by 
tears — by  tears — and  the  fires  that  are  not  quenched." 
What  could  only  be  bought  back?  He  fell  asleep  over 
the  thought,  but  when  he  woke  again  it  was  ready  for 
him. 

"  The  simplicity  of  the  heart  can  only  be  bought  back 
by  tears  and  terror  and  the  fires  that  are  not  quenched." 

That  was  it.  But  what  did  it  mean  to  him?  Idly  he 
tried  to  reason  the  matter,  and  because  thought  flowed 
more  coherently  now,  he  acknowledged  certain  things.  Cer- 
tainly he  had  sold  his  simplicity  of  heart  long  ago — if  he 
ever  had  it.  For  a  while  his  mind  slid  among  memories  of 
the  past  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  had  had  it;  and 
drifting  out  of  nowhere  came  the  legend  of  the  old  Norse 
Loke  who  had  the  mind  of  the  gods,  desiring  good,  and 
the  heart  of  the  giants,  desiring  evil.  Far  away  in  those 
dim,  childish  years,  and  in  the  later  keener  years  of  boy- 
hood, Dick  remembered  how  those  two  had  always  warred 
in  him.  He  smiled  now  in  a  curious  pity  for  that  growing 
fierce-hearted  boy  who  had  once  been  himself.  But  Loke 
had  cast  himself  out  of  Jotunheim  in  despair  at  his  increas- 
ing wickedness.  Dick  would  never  need  to  do  that.  He 
had  never  fully  let  his  heart  overrule  his  mind.  He  had 
always  kept  his  work  straight  and  honest.  That  thought 
brought  him  up  with  a  jarring,  clattering  crash  that  seemed 
almost  physical.  His  drowsy  content  flew  to  pieces,  and 
with  staring,  horror-stricken  eyes  he  tried  to  sit  up,  tried 
to  get  out  of  bed. 

The  room  was  dark  and  still.  It  was  midnight,  perhaps, 
and  men  were  asleep  about  him ;  men  who  knew  what  he 
had  done,  who  knew  that  he  had  betrayed  the  last  thing 
which  he  held  sacred;  men  who  knew — thought  again 
jerked  him  to  a  full  stop.  They  did  not  know.  Hen- 
sham's  friendly  voice  and  words  conveyed  meaning  to  him 
now.  They  did  not  know,  thank  God,  and  they  need  never 
know.  He  lay  down  again,  shivering  and  feeling  the  throb- 
bing ache  of  returning  life  in  all  his  limbs. 


«  WHAT  ETERNAL  CHILDREN  WE  ARE  "     473 

"  Thank  God,  they  need  not  know,"  he  repeated ;  and 
then  felt  with  a  curious,  irritated  surprise  that  the  words 
did  not  seem  to  lift  the  burden  in  the  least.  The  expres- 
sion of  relief  was  only  a  form.  But  the  other  words  were 
true.  And  then,  in  this  hazy,  giddy  world  where  he  lived 
now,  sense  began  to  twist  itself  about  until  he  did  not 
know  which  part  were  true  or  which  he  wanted  true.  He 
was  too  tired,  he  told  himself.  Hands  and  feet  and  head 
felt  too  big  for  the  rest  of  him.  They  jumped  and 
throbbed;  and  he  won  through  the  night  somehow,  sleeping 
fitfully,  and  thankful  when  the  morning  brought  the  cheer- 
ful Hensham  and  his  breakfast.  But  Hensham  was  de- 
cidedly awkward  this  morning,  and  when  the  spoon  and 
bowl  were  put  away  he  sat  on  the  bedside,  attempting  con- 
versation nervously. 

"  You — you — I  suppose  you  haven't  noticed  anything 
wrong  with  any  part  of  you — your  feet,  for  instance?" 
he  asked,  presumably  addressing  the  wall. 

Had  he  been  looking  at  Dick  he  would  have  seen  for 
one  instant  what  no  man  saw  through  that  which  followed. 
It  was  the  sudden   flicker  of  a  deadly   fear;   but  Dick's 
voice  was  normal  to  the  somewhat  obtuse  policeman. 
"  I  can't  say  that  I  have.     Frost-bite,  is  it?  " 
"  Well,  yes ;  it  is.    The  left  foot.    Baskerville — he's  H.B. 
factor,  and  quite  a  bit  of  a  doctor — he  has  been  overhaul- 
ing it,  and  he  is  very  anxious  to  know  if  it  hurts  you  at  all." 
"  Ah  !     Fears  mortification,  does  he  ?  " 
Dick  was  conscious  with  a  sickening  certainty  that  that 
left  foot  was  just  as  dead  and  heavy  a  thing  as  the  rest 
of  him. 

"  Well — of  course,  one  can't  tell.  It's  such  a  little  while 
since  you  came  round,  and  perhaps — would  you  like  to  see 
him?  He  told  me  to  send  for  him  any  time." 

"  Thank  you.     If  he  is  at  liberty  I  might  as  well.     He 

wants  to  take  it  off,  I  suppose.     The  H.B.  factors  have 

exploited  themselves  in  surgery  from  immemorable  ages." 

"  Good  Heavens !     You  don't  imagine  he'd  want  to  do 

it  unless " 

"  I  never  try  to  imagine  other  men's  thoughts."  Dick 
smiled  a  little.  "  Don't  look  so  scared,  Hensham.  He 


474  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

doesn't  want  my  head,  too,  does  he?  Yes,  we  may  as  well 
sir.  him  as  he  has  nothing  better  to  do  just  now." 

In  the  twenty  minutes  which  passed  before  Hensham 
brought  Baskerville  Dick  lay  motionless,  staring  at  the 
wall  and  marshalling  his  strength.  Twice  he  said  through 
stiff  lips  "  I  would  rather  die,"  and  he  knew  that  he  meant 
it.  And  a  bitter  hate  surged  in  him  against  the  luck  which 
had  saved  him  for  this.  But  through  the  examination  fol- 
lowing the  coming  of  the  grave  bearded  man  to  his  room 
he  showed  far  less  nervousness  than  either  of  the  others. 

"  Yes ;  the  little  toe  must  go,"  he  said  when  it  was  over. 
"  But  I  will  hang  on  to  the  rest  so  long  as  I  can,  thank  you 
Baskerville. 

"If  you'll  let  me  operate  at  once " 

"  This  minute  if  you  like.  No,  I  won't  take  an  anes- 
thetic." 

When  the  men  left  him  Dick  turned  his  face  to  the  wall 
and  lay  still.  At  best  this  meant  some  permanent  crippling. 
At  worst  it  meant  death.  His  spirit  preferred  death. 
But  his  body  could  not.  He  had  too  much  innate  vitality, 
and  he  knew  that  he  would  struggle  for  life  until  the  last 
hour  overcame  him.  But  just  at  present  he  was  facing  a 
struggle  which  went  deeper  than  this. 

Dick's  manhood  had  been  his  fetish,  even  as  his  work 
had  been  his  pride.  Because  he  had  never  acknowledged 
this  even  to  himself  the  feeling  was  the  stronger.  It  was 
strong  enough  to  flail  him  now  when  he  saw  where  he  stood 
in  that  clear  sight  of  his.  He  was  a  coward  and  a  deserter. 
He  had  sinned  wilfully;  but  he  dared  not  bear  the  shame. 
He  dare  not.  Tempest  had  dared ;  but  then  Tempest  stood 
in  that  vague  sexless  category  of  saints  and  martyrs  who 
do  these  things  because  they  are  not  exactly  men  nor 
women.  Dick  believed  this  for  three  minutes  before  the 
bottom  fell  out  of  it.  Tempest  was  very  thoroughly  a  man 
in  his  temptation  and  his  fall.  He  had  been  very  thor- 
oughly a  man  in  his  bitter  resentment.  He  was  a  man, 
even  as  Dick.  But,  as  a  man,  he  would  not  live  a 
lie. 

He  fought  that  acknowledge  through  the  whole  night, 
forgetting  even  Jennifer.  For  the  devil  in  his  blood  would 
not  die  while  that  blood  ran.  But  his  feebleness  pre- 


"  WHAT  ETERNAL  CHILDREN  WE  ARE  "     475 

vented  fever  of  body  or  mind,  and  it  kept  him  sane  while 
he  groped  slowly  toward  the  light. 

"  The  fact  that  you  have  so  little  blood  left  in  you  is 
your  great  salvation,"  said  Baskerville  one  day,  and  Dick 
assented  with  an  amused  gravity. 

His  spirit  had  still  enough  blood  in  it  to  make  thinking 
a  very  vital  thing  through  those  long  and  lonely  days. 
His  thoughts  were  often  necessarily  painful  and  sordid 
and  miserable.  He  had  lived  too  long  in  such  an  atmos- 
phere to  struggle  out  of  it  easily.  But  there  was  an  un- 
expected luminosity  about  some  things  now.  Since  he  had 
seen  that  light  in  Andree's  dying  eyes  he  knew  with  that 
belief  which  is  beyond  reason  that  her  fiery,  untamed  soul 
was  not  a  thing  which  death  had  blown  out.  Since  he  had 
walked  so  close  to  the  borderland  of  death  himself  he  be- 
gan to  look  on  it  as  a  probable  development,  not  an  extinc- 
tion. And  if  it  were  possible  to  believe  this  thing  which 
he  could  not  prove,  then  many  unprovable  things  were  pos- 
sible. Day  by  day  as  he  lay  there  he  thought  these  puzzles 
out,  mocking  at  himself  often,  sinking  down  into  the  old 
sloughs  often,  and  yet  finding  a  strange  persevering  inter- 
est and  amusement  in  recognising  some  rationality  in  those 
things  which  did  not  answer  to  the  touch-stone  of  logic, 
and  which  he  would  once  have  swept  away  for  that  rea- 
son. 

He  did  not  dare  let  himself  think  too  much  of  his  prob- 
able maiming;  he  was  too  weak  to  talk  for  long  at  a  time, 
and  so  he  thought,  not  realising  that  this  was  the  natural 
flower  from  that  new  growth  of  charity  towards  his  neigh- 
bour which  had  led  him  to  help  Tempest  in  the  first  place; 
to  rouse  Slicker  from  his  inertia;  to  attempt  rescue  of  the 
white  baby  from  Alphonse  Michu.  To  the  end  of  his  life 
he  would  almost  certainly  mock  more  than  he  would  sym- 
pathise; but  now  that  the  blackest  of  his  trouble  was 
upon  him  he  was  losing  much  of  the  bitterness  which  had 
characterised  his  whole  life.  It  seemed  as  if  through 
recognising  his  weakness  he  was  at  last  g.-iining  inner 
strength.  Even  Hensham's  noisy  rejoicing  over  the  fact 
that  Dick  would  not  have  to  lose  his  foot  did  not  rouse 
that  caustic  tongue.  But  Dick's  heart  knew  that  to  drag 
a  useless  member  through  life  would  be  little  better  than 


476  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

to  lose  it.  And  no  man  could  tell  yet  if  that  would  be  so 
or  not. 

And  then,  one  day,  the  test  of  all  which  he  had  been 
learning  and  thinking  came  on  him  suddenly  with  Hen- 
sham's  announcement  that  a  trader  was  going  up  to  the 
South  next  day. 

"  He  can  be  trusted  to  take  letters,"  said  Hensham. 
"  I'm  sending  some,  and  of  course  you'll  want  to  send  a 
line  to  your  folks." 

Dick's  smile  was  bitter  for  a  moment.  His  folks  had 
forgotten  him  long  ago. 

"  Thanks,"  he  said.  "  I  must  write  Regina,  anyway. 
It  will  months  yet  before  I  can  travel." 

"  I'm  afraid  so.  Of  course  it's  awfully  jolly  for  us 
having  you  here,  and  I  really  do  believe  that  foot  will  get 
fairly  right,  you  know.  You  are  a  trump  of  a  patient, 
Heriot.  I'd  be  growling  and  cursing  about  it  all  day." 

Dick's  lips  twitched  a  little.  Perhaps  some  day  Hen- 
sham  would  learn  that  there  are  things  which  go  too  deep 
for  outside  comment. 

"  You'd  probably  bundle  me  out  if  I  did,"  he  said.  "  I 
might  as  well  write  now,  before  Baskerville  comes  to  do 
my  foot." 

"  Of  course  I've  put  this  business  in  my  report,"  said 
Hensham.  "  I  wish  we  had  been  able  to  find  that  poor  girl's 
body,  you  know.  I  guess  I'd  be  glad  to  know  that  she 
was  properly  buried.  Of  course  we  haven't  a  notion  how 
many  days  you  traveled  after  you'd  left  her.  If  you'd 
been  keeping  your  diary  to  the  last  as  young  Grahame 
did " 

"  Yes.  It  was  an  oversight,  wasn't  it?  You  might  hand 
me  the  pen  and  paper.  Thanks." 

For  a  little  while  after  Hensham  had  gone  he  sat  still 
with  his  lips  set  and  his  eyes  unusually  sad  and  soft.  He 
knew  what  he  was  going  to  write.  He  had  come  to  the 
decision  through  too  fierce  a  fight  not  to  know  it.  And  he 
was  not  coward  enough  to  retract  now.  But  a  little  shud- 
der ran  through  him  as  he  took  up  the  pen.  He  was  go- 
ing to  do  the  hardest  thing  that  his  life  had  demanded  of 
him  yet.  He  wrote  a  short  letter  to  the  Commisioner,  and 
a  long  one  to  Jennifer.  But  the  gist  of  both  was  the  same. 


«  WHAT  ETERNAL  CHILDREN  WE  ARE  "     477 

He  made  a  full  confession  of  the  betrayal  of  his  trust;  he 
expressed  repentence,  and  he  did  not  ask  for  mercy.  The 
letters  were  sealed  and  lying  on  the  table  when  Hensham 
came  back,  and  the  vigorous  young  fellow  exclaimed  at 
the  white  tired  face. 

"  I  say !  You're  fagged  out,  Heriot.  I  should  have 
come  in  before.  I'm  so  sorry." 

"  You're  a  good  chap,  Hensham."  There  was  no  mock- 
ery in  Dick's  smile  just  now.  "  I'll  have  to  pass  all  you've 
done  for  me  on  to  the  next  man,  for  you  don't  look  a  fit 
subject  for  medical  administrations." 

"  I've  done  nothing."  Hensham  reddened.  "  You — 
you're  so  awfully  brickish  about  it  all,  you  know." 

"  Am  I?  That's  an  unusual  accusation.  Yes;  those  are 
the  letters.  You  can  stamp  them.  Thanks." 

He  watched  them  go  with  a  curious  half- wonder  in  his 
eyes.  Why  should  he  feel  relief  at  having  done  a  thing 
which  was  probably  going  to  damn  him  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world?  What  had  taught  him  that  if  a  man  puts  himself 
right  with  himself  he  can  afford  to  face  what  that  world 
may  say?  And  why  was  it  putting  him  right  with  himself 
to  do  a  foolish  and  quixotic  thing? 

Baskerville  came  in  and  interrupted  his  meditations ;  and 
Dick,  with  a  sudden  swing  of  the  pendulum,  said  several 
unusually  nasty  things  to  him.  But  Baskerville  met  them 
with  the  tolerance  one  shows  a  man  who  may  be  crippled 
for  life.  Dick  understood  the  reason,  and  it  did  not 
sweeten  his  temper.  Natural  reaction  had  set  in,  and  he 
spent  a  wretched  night.  But  he  did  not  ask  for  the  letters 
back  again.  His  weaknessess  seldom  took  the  form  of  re- 
traction in  any  way.  Through  the  following  weeks  and 
months  that  grew  to  spring  he  never  thought  once  of  mak- 
ing confession  to  Hensham.  This  was  not  Hensham's  busi- 
ness, nor  the  business  of  any  save  the  two  who  would 
know  by  now,  and  Dick  was  not  the  man  to  fling  himself 
to  penitential  extremes. 

Careful  nursing  and  time  brought  power  back  to  the 
maimed  foot,  little  by  little.  But  the  ice  was  gone  and 
the  canoes  were  on  the  river  before  Dick  went  south  again. 
He  took  Indians  with  him  from  post  to  post,  leaving  the 
last  one  at  Simpson,  and  paddling  the  long  stage  into  Fort 


478  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

Resolution  alone.  He  bad  known  long  since  that  Tempest 
was  in  charge  of  the  Mackenzie  District  now;  and  he  had 
heard  from  the  steamer,  which  he  met  near  Simpson,  that 
letters  were  waiting  him  in  Tempest's  care.  Those  let- 
ters haunted  the  day  and  the  night  for  him  now.  Dear 
though  Jennifer  was  to  him,  much  though  she  meant  and  al- 
ways would  mean  in  his  life,  he  knew  that  no  possible  ten- 
derness of  hers  could  quite  atone  for  the  public  disgrace 
which  might  fall  on  him.  And  for  more  than  the  disgrace 
— for  the  pain  and  the  heartache  it  would  be  to  him  to 
know  the  North  no  more. 

For  all  she  had  given  him  to  bear  his  heart  glowed  yet 
with  love  for  this  great  sweeping  space  of  Northland.  Her 
wild  and  lavish  glory  of  young  summer  stirred  the  undying 
wild  youth  in  himself.  He  could  never  leave  her  without 
a  heartbreak.  But  he  knew  that  he  would  never  come  back 
if  his  dishonour  had  gone  down  these  mighty  rivers  before 
him.  On  the  last  evening  before  he  reached  Fort  Reso- 
lution he  camped  in  a  spruce  clump  redolent  with  piny 
odours,  and  with  an  outlook  upon  the  lake.  The  turquoise 
and  raw  gold  of  the  quivering  sunset  across  that  rimless 
reach  of  faintly  rolling  water  seemed  more  glorious  than 
he  had  ever  seen  it  before.  His  own  life  was  just  as 
horizonless  at  present,  and  there  was  none  of  that  beauty 
in  it,  and  yet  there  was  a  new-sprung  hope  and  pleasure 
in  him  that  used  not  to  be  there.  He  was  hoping  because 
he  dared  not  do  anything  else.  He  was  trying  to  believe 
because  he  dared  not  do  anything  else.  And  this  is  really 
the  one  and  only  reason  which  makes  a  man  in  earnest. 

Lulled  there  in  the  lap  of  that  great  silence  with  only 
his  pipe  for  company  the  radiance  of  the  sunset  held  more 
meaning,  the  brooding  calm  of  the  deepening  sky  held  more, 
the  occasional  scuffling  and  splash  of  the  ducks  in  the  reeds 
held  more.  He  seemed  to  have  stumbled  on  some  new  un- 
derstanding and  comradeship  with  that  mighty  Life  which 
pulsed  through  everything,  and  yet  he  could  not  tell  how 
and  where  he  felt  in  touch  with  it.  But  he  carried  a 
courageous  heart  into  Fort  Resolution  next  day,  and  he  re- 
ceived his  letter  and  the  news  that  Tempest  would  be  back 
in  a  couple  of  hours  with  a  like  serenity.  Then,  because  he 
dared  not  read  those  letters  out  in  the  breezy  day  with 


"  WHAT  ETERNAL  CHILDREN  WE  ARE  "     479 

the  sunlight  dancing  on  the  lake  and  all  the  wildwood 
scents  loose  about  him,  he  took  them  into  Tempest's  little 
sitting-room,  and  shut  the  door,  and  sat  down  in  Tempest's 
chair  to  read  them. 

He  sat  still  for  very  long  after  they  were  read,  and  he 
was  sitting  there  still  when  he  heard  Tempest's  voice  in 
the  passage. 

"What?  In  there,  is  he?  Very  well.  Yes.  I'll  call 
you  \vhen  I  want  you,  Bernard." 

Dick  stood  up,  thrusting  the  letters  into  his  pocket. 
He  heard  Tempest's  step,  and  both  step  and  voice  seemed 
to  bear  the  eager  ring  of  the  old  days.  Then  Tempest 
swung  the  door  open,  and  came  in  swiftly. 

"  My  word,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  old  man,"  he  said. 

The  grip  of  the  hand  told  it,  and  the  half-break  in  the 
voice.  Then  Tempest  stood  back,  laughing  half-nervously. 

"  They've  managed  to  put  some  flesh  on  you  again  down 
at  Macpherson,"  he  said.  "  You're  not  eligible  for  our 
'  Dulce  et  decorum  '  roll-call  yet." 

Dick  winced.  This  was  touching  on  the  sore  place  al- 
ready. 

"  Macpherson  must  share  her  honours,"  he  said.  "  Young 
Grahame  was  offered  up  on  her  altar." 

"  Yes.  Sad  thing  that.  Sit  down,  and  let  me  look  at 
you.  Fit  ?  I  should  think  I  was.  No  time  to  be  anything 
else  up  here." 

He  talked  cheerfully,  with  much  of  the  old  buoyancy 
back  in  his  manner  and  words.  But  it  had  a  deeper  note 
and  a  greater  gravity  at  times,  and  there  were  some  threads 
of  grey  in  his  thick  hair.  It  was  Dick  who  spoke  of  his 
lameness  because  he  had  seen  the  contraction  of  Tempest's 
forehead  when  he  limped  to  his  chair. 

"  It  will  be  permanent,"  he  said.  "  But  there  is  no  pain 
now." 

"  It  won't  incapacitate  you  for  duty  ?  " 

"  No."  Dick's  smile  was  peculiar.  "  I  don't  expect  that 
to  incapacitate  me  for  duty." 

For  a  while  longer  they  talked  of  other  things.  Then 
Tempest  said: 

"Now  tell  me  about  Andree,  please." 

He  was  silent  while  Dick  gave  such  particulars  as  would 


480  THE    LAW-BRIXGERS 

not  pain  Tempest  too  much.  Then  he  added :  "  I  think  she 
did  not  suffer  at  the  last.  She  died  in  my  arms,  and  her 
eyes  were  glorious  when  I  closed  them." 

"  She  loved  you  to  the  last,  Dick?  " 

"  Yes." 

There  was  a  pause.     Then  Tempest  said,  quietly: 

"  Thank  you.  I  think  I  am  glad  to  know  that.  It 
would  make  her  happy  just  to  be  with  you.  And  yet — 
they  said  she  ran  away  from  you." 

"  She  did.  But  that  was  not  the  beginning.  I  ran  away 
with  her  first,  Tempest." 

"  You  did  what?  " 

"  I  was  taking  her  out  to  Dawson  City.  Wait  a  minute ! 
I  changed  my  mind  and  tried  to  bring  her  back.  I  sup- 
pose I  was  rather  brutal  to  her,  and  she  ran  away  from 
me.  There  is  no  need  for  you  to  make  any  comment  on 
this.  Don't  imagine  that  I  have  lost  all  sense  of  propor- 
tion because  I  so  nearly  lost  everything  else." 

Tempest  sprang  up  and  began  to  walk  through  the  room. 
It  was  his  old  habit  when  in  strong  agitation,  and  Dick  sat 
still,  staring  at  the  floor.  He  did  not  know  that  he  had 
meant  to  tell  Tempest.  Now  he  saw  that  it  could  not  have 
been  otherwise.  He  owed  Andree's  ever-true  lover  that. 
Presently  he  said: 

"  I  should  like  to  tell  you  one  reason  why  I  really  did 
that  thing.  But  I  cannot." 

"  I  know."  Tempest  halted  in  his  walk.  "  It  was  be- 
cause Mrs.  Ducane  sent  you  away." 

"  You "  Dick's  oath  was  hot  and  quick.  "  What 

do  you  know  about  that?  " 

"  Mrs.  Ducane  told  me,  Dick." 

"  She  told  you  ?  " 

"  She  knew  that  I  was  dreading  this  very  thing ;  and 
she  told  me  that  it  would  not  be,  and  she  told  me  why  she 
M'as  sure  of  it." 

He  continued  to  walk  the  room,  and  Dick's  eyes  went 
back  to  the  floor.  This  hurt  more  than  he  had  expected 
to  be  hurt  again.  It  was  Tempest  who  spoke  next. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  blame  any  man  when  I  have  been 
so  far  from  blameless  myself.  If  I  had  been  less  hard  to 
you  it  might  have  helped  you." 


"  WHAT  ETERNAL  CHILDREN  WE  ARE  "    481 

"I  deserved  all  I  got  there.  It  would  have  helped, 
though.  You  and  Jennifer  were  too  good  and  too  far-off 
for  me."  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  a  slight  laugh. 
"  But  I  had  to  come  back  to  you/'  he  said. 

Tempest  did  not  ask  what  had  brought  him  back.  That 
was  Dick's  own  arrangement  with  his  God — if  he  had  one. 

"  And  you  have  the  right  to  come  back  now,"  he  said. 
"  Did  you  know  that  Ducane  is  dead?  " 

"  I  have  had  a  letter  from  her  telling  me.  I  wrote  her 
from  Macpherson."  It  was  Tempest's  silence  drew  the 
next  words  out  of  him.  "  She  is  waiting  at  Grey  Wolf 
until  I  come.  It  rather  frightens  one  to  know  how  much 
a  woman  can  forgive." 

"  So  long  as  you  stay  frightened  you'll  be  all  right,"  said 
Tempest  dryly.  Then  he  came  over,  standing  close  by 
Dick's  chair. 

"  I  am  a  brute  to  say  such  things  to  you,"  he  said  with 
his  old  impetuosity.  "  You  saved  me,  and  nearly  lost  your- 
self over  doing  it.  That  should  make  us  quits.  You 
didn't  know  what  was  going  to  come  out  of  it." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  cared,  after  the  first.  And  you 
have  surely  more  humour  than  to  make  apologies  to  me." 
Dick  pushed  his  chair  back,  and  stood  up.  "  I  think  you're 
wanted.  Someone  has  been  perambulating  the  passage 
and  coughing  discreetly  for  the  last  three  minutes." 

Tempest  turned  to  the  door.     But  he  looked  back. 

"  You'll  give  me  all  the  days  you  can  spare,  won't  you, 
Dick?"  he  asked. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to,"  said  Dick  briefly. 

But  under  the  bald  words  both  men  felt  the  pull  of  that 
old  bond  of  friendship  again.  It  was  not  broken,  and  it 
would  not  break  now.  Dick  knew  this  certainly  as  he 
went  out  to  smoke  a  pipe  along  the  sunny  beach,  and  he 
felt  surprisedly  that  he  was  glad,  really  glad,  although  joy 
and  he  had  been  strangers  so  long.  Even  Jennifer's  letter 
had  not  made  him  glad,  for  its  sweet  unreproachful  wis- 
dom had  humbled  him  into  the  dust.  And  the  Commis- 
sioner's letter  had  not  made  him  glad.  It  had  made  him 
thankful.  He  smiled  a  little,  thinking  of  it.  There  was 
quite  evidently  something  of  the  woman  in  the  Commis- 
sioner too.  Or  perhaps  it  was  because  he  had  had  such 


482  THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

a  very  large  acquaintance  with  men  for  so  many  years 
that  he  was  prepared  for  everything.  Or  it  may  have 
been  that  he  set  undue  value  on  the  fact  that  one  of  those 
men  had  confessed  a  fault  which  he  so  easily  might  have 
suppressed.  Whatever  the  reason  it  seemed  more  likely 
that  Dick  would  find  a  friend  at  Regina,  in  place  of  the 
judge  he  expected.  A  sudden  twist  of  his  ever-nimble 
brain  suggested  that  it  might  be  the  same  at  the  end  of 
that  longer  journey  which  he  was  taking.  But  here  he 
shrugged  his  shoulders  with  a  laugh  of  half-contempt. 
Those  kinds  of  thoughts  and  his  nature  were  so  ridicu- 
lously at  variance.  It  must  be,  of  course,  because  he  was 
thinking  more  of  Jennifer  than  usual.  Behind  the  blow- 
ing smoke-cloud  his  eyes  softened. 

"  If  only  I  could  bring  her  more,"  he  said,  under  his 
breath.  "  If  I  could  bring  her  more  for  all  she  has  to 
give  me.  But  a  man  can't  waste  his  years  and  his  heart 
and  his  soul  for  nothing.  I  haven't  got  it  to  give  now." 

Something  of  this  was  touched  on  a  few  nights  later 
when  Dick  and  Tempest  walked  the  dreaming  beach  under 
the  stars.  They  would  part  in  the  morning,  and  it  would 
quite  probably  be  long  before  they  met  again;  and  this 
knowledge,  and  the  haunting  beauty  and  loneliness  of  the 
wide  lake  loosened  their  tongues  a  little,  so  that,  hesitat- 
ingly and  with  many  pauses,  they  spoke  more  intimately 
than  they  had  done  since  the  days  of  their  fiery  youth. 
Even  better  than  Dick,  Tempest  knew  that  the  human  soul 
is  a  shy  wild  thing  which  often  cannot  give  where  it  most 
desires  to  give.  But,  by  putting  something  of  man's  nat- 
ural reserve  aside,  his  intuitive  skill  led  him  to  make  some 
confessions  in  order  to  gain  them.  And  by  slow  degrees 
he  did  gain  them,  until  Dick  was  sufficiently  softened  to 
speak  of  his  remorse.  But  here  Tempest  stopped  him. 

"  We  were  both  to  blame,"  he  said.  "  Which  is,  I  sup- 
pose, much  the  same  as  saying  we  are  both  human.  But 
my  sin  was  worse  than  yours  because  I  knew  that  I  was 
wrong.  Almost  from  the  beginning  I  knew  it;  but  I  went 
on  'in  spite  of  Hell.'  Well — you  gave  me  Hell,  and  I've 
got  out  of  it"  He  glanced  at  Dick  with  a  whimsical 
smile.  "  Your  methods  were  not  gentle.  But  I  want  you 
to  believe  that  I  sincerely  think  I  could  have  forgiven 


"  WHAT  ETERNAL  CHILDREN  WE  ARE  "     488 

anything  you  did  to  myself  only  without  very  much  effort, 
Dick." 

"  I  would  not  have  had  you  forgive  the  other  easily," 
said  Dick  sharply. 

The  long  silence  which  followed  was  broken  by  Dick. 

"  I  shall  probably  be  married  very  soon  if  I  can  get 
permission  from  the  Commissioner.  Ducane  has  been  dead 
eight  months,  and  I  am  due  for  leave.  I  didn't  take  it 
when  I  enlisted  four  years  ago." 

"  Ah !     Then  your  term  is  up  next  year  ?  " 

"  I  know.  But  I  shall  join  again  if  I  am  allowed.  I 
can't  settle  to  any  other  life  now.  I  have  knocked  about 
too  long." 

"  Is  that — will  that  be  fair  on — on- " 

"  No !  "  Dick's  laugh  held  a  sting  of  bitterness.  "  Have 
I  ever  been  fair  to  her  or  anyone  else?  But  it  is  inevitable, 
and  she  recognises  that.  Do  you  remember  what  some 
poet  says  about  Hercules?  He  fell  into  all  sorts  of  evils 
if  he  didn't  have  the  chance  to  sweat  his  soul  out  occa- 
sionally at  honest  hard  work.  Not  that  I  compare  myself 
to  the  god  in  any  other  way;  but  I  do  understand  the 
common-sense  of  that.  My  nature  will  always  be  too 
strong  for  me  if  I  can't  find  manual  work  enough  to  keep 
it  down.  She'll  help — Jennifer  will.  But  she  can't  do  it 
all.  It  is  part  of  the  penalty,  I  suppose,  that  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  settle  down  into  a  comfortable  fat  father  and 
husband  as  you  could.  Oh — I  never  meant " 

"  It's  all  right.  Don't  imagine  that  that  hurts  now, 
Dick.  I  am  not  a  child  to  spend  my  life  crying  over  what 
I  can't  have.  I  think  I  would  have  been  rather  glad  to — 
to  follow  your  example.  I  thought  about  it  when  I  went 
East,  and  I — well,  I  tried.  But  I  saw  that,  whoever  the 
woman  might  be,  she  would  take  such  a  very  third-class 
place  behind  my  work  and  my  country  that  it  would  have 
been  dishonourable  to  ask  her." 

"  You  have  more  conscience  than  I  have,  Tempest." 

"No.  I  have  merely  centred  my  interests  where  you 
have  always  wanted  them  to  be — where  I  had  thought  I 
wanted  them  to  be  myself.  A  man  can  do  little,  perhaps. 
But  the  utmost  which  he  can  give  will  be  asked  of  him. 
That  is  the  great  consolation." 


THE    LAW-BRINGERS 

"  You'll  do  more  than  a  little,  old  chap." 
"  I  hope  so."  Tempest's  eyes  shone  suddenly,  and  his 
voice  rang.  "Lord!  What  eternal  children  we  are! 
We'll  build  our  mud-heaps  to  raise  us  up  to  conquer  the 
stars  until  the  end  of  time,  never  heeding  how  often  they 
crumble  under  us."  He  laid  his  hand  on  Dick's  shoulder. 
"  Whatever  you  did  or  meant  to  do  to  me  I  owe  it  to  you 
that  I  have  taken  hold  of  things  again,"  he  said.  "  I  can't 
see  yet  what  it  is  all  for.  I  can't  see  why  the  innocent 
should  suffer  for  the  guilty,  or  why  self  should  be  such  an 
eternal  devil  to  fight.  There  seems  injustice  somewhere. 
But  perhaps  I'll  see  clearer  in  time.  Till  I  do  I'll — go  on 
building  mud-heaps." 

"  And  when  you  do  you'll  conquer  the  stars." 
But  Dick's  raillery  was  very  friendly,  for  the  boyish- 
ness, which  would  never  die  out  of  Tempest,  touched  the 
younger  man,  who  was  so  infinitely  older  in  many  ways. 
And  for  an  hour  yet  they  smoked  their  pipes  as  they  kept 
step  up  and  down  the  beach  and  spoke  of  many  things. 
But  they  did  not  touch  on  those  private  subjects  again; 
and  their  words  and  their  good-byes  were  casual  on  the 
shore  in  the  morning  when  the  breed  in  the  stern  of  Dick's 
canoe  held  it  against  the  bank,  and  Dick  turned  for  a 
moment  to  give  his  hand  to  Tempest. 

They  did  not  weaken  that  hand-grip  with  words,  al- 
though Dick  had  a  jest  for  his  lame  foot  as  he  clambered 
into  'the  canoe.  He  turned  once  to  see  Tempest  straight 
and  tall  on  the  shore.  Then  he  went  on  paddling  with 
slow,  long  strokes  and  the  tobacco-smoke  blowing  out 
either  side  him.  Tempest  watched  until  the  dazzle  of  light 
on  the  water  hid  him  and  the  entrance  to  the  Great  Slave 
River  lay  near.  Then  he  went  along  the  beach,  and  flung 
himself  down  on  the  sand,  looking  out  to  the  shoreless  lake 
that  ran  blue  against  the  blue  sky.  His  eternal  duties 
would  call  him  up  presently,  and  next  week  he  would 
start  his  long  patrol  to  the  North  by  the  ways  up 
which  Dick  had  come.  But  this  warm  golden  hour  of  si- 
lence between  earth  and  Heaven  was  his  own. 

Cicadas  were  chirping,  and  all  across  the  lake  sea-birds 
dipped  and  called.  The  air  was  full  of  the  healthy  smell 
from  little  far-off  fires,  and  the  light  breeze  helped  his 


"  WHAT  ETERNAL  CHILDREN  WE  ARE  "     485 

pipe  to  keep  off  the  mosquitoes.  He  lay  on  his  back, 
staring  up  into  the  blue,  which  seemed  to  recede  and 
deepen,  drawing  his  thoughts  up  with  it.  And  his  mind 
turned  again  to  that  inexplicable  secret  of  the  universe 
which  so  puzzled  him  and  which  he  so  struggled  to  inter- 
pret. For  all  Dick's  cynical,  clear-sighted  unbelief  he 
believed  that  Dick  was  nearer  the  solution  than  himself. 
But  Dick  had  Jennifer  to  help  him.  Tempest  had  to  find 
his  way  along  a  lonely  road.  And  why  should  that  be  so? 
Why  should  one  man  have  and  another  man  lose?  Why 
should  evil  trip  the  feet  up  on  the  very  altar-steps?  Why 
should  doubt  be  born  of  belief  and  belief  of  doubt?  Why, 
and  why,  and  again,  why?  Where  was  the  reason  of  it 
all? 

An  ant  ran  up  his  hand,  and  he  raised  it  to  watch  as 
the  little  thing  darted  this  way  and  that,  afraid  to  make 
excursions  up  his  arm,  afraid  to  drop  over  into  the  un- 
known. It  rested  at  last,  accepting  the  inevitable  and 
trusting  in  the  fortune  which  had  guided  it  so  far.  Tem- 
pest lowered  his  hand  and  let  it  run  off  into  the  sand. 
He  had  found  the  first  word  of  that  interpretation  which 
he  sought,  and  it  was  one  which  had  been  about  him  all 
the  time.  That  word  was  Faith,  and  by  the  very  nature 
of  it  he  knew  that  it  would  be  the  only  one  which  he 
and  his  generation — and  perhaps  many  generations  after 
him — would  learn.  And  by  its  very  nature  it  gave  rich 
promise  of  other  words,  other  revelations  to  be  understood 
when  the  first  was  fully  mastered.  Then,  and  not  until 
then,  would  come  the  progression,  even  as  our  forefathers 
progressed  from  arrows  to  knives  and  from  verbal  to  writ- 
ten speech.  Faith,  not  blind  and  stupid,  but  Faith  com- 
pletely equipped  and  strong  and  eager  for  the  next  step. 
In  some  strange  way  Dick's  unbelief  had  come  to  an  accept- 
ance of  a  faith  of  some  sort.  Tempest's  years  of  belief 
had  found  it  more  difficult.  Tempest  believed  that  he  could 
interpret  that.  In  his  weariness  the  beggared  heart  in 
Dick  had  turned  gratefully  to  the  crumbs  which  fell  from 
the  table,  where  Tempest  in  his  pride  and  impatience  had 
demanded  cake. 

One  white  line  of  cloud  drew  itself  delicately  across  the 
curve  of  blue,  and  the  sun-warmth  soaked  into  him  as  he 


486  THE   LAW-BRINGERS 

lay.  His  thoughts  went  back  to  the  ant.  That  ant  could 
not  understand  why  Tempest  lifted  it  up,  nor  why  he  put 
it  down  again.  Supposing  that  he  was  expecting  informa- 
tion on  subjects  which  he  was  as  little  capable  of  under- 
standing? All  over  this  great  humming  world  lives  were 
being  born,  lives  were  dying,  with  every  breath  he  drew. 
What  other  equipment  could  avail  man  against  that  reeling 
knowledge  but  Faith?  Faith  that  his  God  held  the  ends 
of  every  tangled  skein;  faith  that  when  he  too  was  able 
to  understand  he  should  understand;  faith  that  the  sub- 
missive acceptance  of  Faith  as  ultimate  was  the  one  way; 
of  growing  beyond  it.  It  would  not  be  for  Tempest  to  dis- 
cover his  Great  Secret  this  side  the  stars,  although,  by  his 
life,  he  might  help  secure  the  discovery  to  later  genera- 
tions. As  he  lay  there  a  strange,  peaceful  sense  of  father- 
hood towards  the  future,  of  sonhood  towards  the  past,  came 
over  him.  As  his  progenitors,  the  Cavemen,  had  worked 
through  their  descendants  out  of  blind  animal  terrors  and 
ignorance,  so  the  men  that  should  come  after  Tempest 
might  work  to  heights  now  unguessed  at  by  him.  Whether 
he  knew  or  not  would  not  matter.  He  knew  now.  He 
knew  that  he  and  all  men  had  their  glorious  infinitesimal 
part  in  the  moulding  of  the  future.  For  the  fact  that  man 
may  not  live  to  himself  alone  is  at  once  the  redemption 
and  the  temptation  of  mankind. 

He  got  up  at  last  and  walked  back  to  the  barracks. 
Through  long  tangled  ways  he  had  returned  to  the  truth 
which  a  child  learns  at  its  mother's  knee.  But  he  had 
won  it  for  himself  now,  and  therefore  it  was  precious  as 
it  could  never  have  been  before.  It  might  not  make  life 
easier,  perhaps,  because  life  is  not  meant  to  be  easy.  It 
might  not  make  him  very  good,  because  man  is  not  meant 
to  be  very  good.  He  is  meant  to  stay  human  enough  to 
sympathise  with  other  men.  But  he  had  got  a  solid  base 
at  last  on  which  to  build  his  mud-heaps. 

Before  him  the  great  lake  rolled  to  rightward  and  the 
great  plains  rolled  to  left.  The  sun  was  warm  and  hazily 
golden  over  both,  and  a  faint  blue  veined  the  distance. 
There  was  the  smell  of  rain  and  of  quickening  earth  in  the 
air,  and  a  few  duck  flew  over;  making  no  sound,  but  strik- 
ing the  note  of  life  into  the  far-spreading  peace. 


Tempest  stood  still  to  watch  them  go.  Then  he  looked 
out  across  the  land  which  was  so  dear  to  him  with  the 
old  light  shining  in  bis  eyes.  His  right  hand  was  closed, 
as  the  hand  of  a  man  who  grasps  a  rapier-hilt.  Presently 
he  spoke,  with  a  half-laugh  and  a  half-break  of  love  in  the 
words. 

"  To  love  you  isn't  enough,"  he  said.  "  God  grant  we're 
ready  to  suffer  and  work  for  you — Canada." 


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